


Hell over Me

by dnofsunshine



Series: HoM verse [1]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blackmail, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Brotherly Bonding, Character Death In Dream, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Daisuke/Takeru Bonding, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Is Alive, Everyone is bonding with Takeru lol, Explicit Language, Friendship, Gen, Ghosts, Horror, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Ken/Takeru Bonding, Major Character Injury, Near Death Experiences, Nightmares, Panic Attacks, Paranormal, Secrets, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Supernatural Elements, Takaishida - Freeform, Takeru needs a hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-20
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 24
Words: 119,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22338196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dnofsunshine/pseuds/dnofsunshine
Summary: Evil spirits have resurrected an enemy defeated by the Chosen Children years ago, and they have their eyes set on Takeru. They hate. They hurt. They haunt. And they forbid escape. But their puzzle is one Takeru must figure out because if he doesn't, it will cost him his soul.Set in a different universe than tri. Trigger warning.
Relationships: Ishida Yamato | Matt Ishida & Takaishi Takeru | T.K. Takaishi, Takaishi Takeru | T.K. Takaishi & Chosen Children | DigiDestined, Takaishi Takeru | T.K. Takaishi & Yagami Hikari | Kari Kamiya
Series: HoM verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1607956
Comments: 34
Kudos: 75





	1. I'm Fine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GreenSpaghetti](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenSpaghetti/gifts).



> I don't own Digimon! 
> 
> **Please read the tags and stay safe!** Also, I had this posted on ffn a longggg time ago, but a friend of mine inspired me to post here! Lookin at you, Toasty! I'll try to post every day or every few days. :)

"This is a wasteland, my only retreat. With Heaven above you, there's Hell over me." — Hell Above, Pierce the Veil

* * *

**Ch 01 || I'm Fine**

Takeru knew from past experiences that not all forces of darkness that lurked within the world were associated with forces of evil.

It was true that no world was entirely cleansed of the element—and that piece of knowledge used to anger him. As a child, Takeru believed darkness only existed to cause pain and suffering for others. It was dangerous, manipulative, and could easily tear someone apart from the inside out if it were to fall into the wrong hands. It hurt and took away those whom he cherished, and left scars that a smile sometimes couldn't hide.

It drove him crazy, knowing that something so vile existed in the world he called his home—as well as the one he'd adopted as his second home—and that it only continued to grow stronger.

But Takeru soon learned that, yes, darkness was indeed powerful—but powerful did not mean that it was malevolent. It was a double-edged sword: darkness could be as beautiful and pure as light could be, but if it spun out of control, it became the side of darkness that Takeru loathed so much—the corrupted side.

The horrible vastness that surrounded him now, it was… it was far from corrupted.

This darkness was _filthy._

He wasn't sure what coaxed him to open his eyes first: the unsettling, sick feeling that something was crawling on him; or the sound of his name drifting in the cold breeze, over and over again. But even with his eyes open, he could see nothing but blackness. It stretched endlessly; covered everything in a thick, dark veil. Consuming. Overwhelming.

Shuddering, he tried to dispel the sudden sense of anxiety that flooded through him. The air was tense and humid and oddly familiar, and he couldn't locate whatever, or whoever it was that was whispering his name.

_Takeru, come closer. Takeru, look deeper. Takeru, don't you see us?_

He blinked hard and tried to adjust to the darkness. Tried to look, to see, to find the owners of the voices. He shivered again when something quivered ecstatically around his limbs. A glance down showed him small specks of bright red.

Automatic instinct was to cry out; to scream. Those specks were beady red eyes looking back up at him, piercing right through flesh and into bone. And he _hadn't_ imagined things—there really were tendrils slithering around him. Through him. Wrapped him in an embrace he did not want to return.

He wanted to move, but the tendrils wouldn't release him. Instead, the resistance became stronger. They seemed to bite into his skin as they pulled him deeper and deeper into this infinite darkness, and as much as he wanted to cry out, to escape from their grasp, he couldn't.

Then he hit the ground. Hard.

His breath left him quickly and violently as their grip slackened, and he squeezed his eyes shut. His collision with the ground hurt more than he thought it should have.

Laughter. It echoed mockingly. Surrounded him. Each round of taunting chuckles sent an agonizing pulse through his temples.

_I knew it would be easy to pull you through._

His fingers fisted into what felt like sand. Slowly, he forced himself to focus on something other than the pain; tried to pick himself. It was hard to pinpoint exactly where he was, but the overwhelming sense of darkness that smothered him told him that it couldn't be good.

Against his better judgment, he opened his eyes again. Before him stretched miles of grey, black, and white. He coughed dryly and wiped at his face, whole body quaking on the sand.

_Where... where am I?_

Light-headed and breathing heavily, Takeru tried to get his thundering heartbeat under control. Part of him was aware that this place was familiar, but the other part of him didn't want to accept it. It was the same part that wondered how he was supposed to escape.

_Get up,_ he told himself, because even though that had been what he was trying to do, his body wouldn't obey him. He forced himself to his knees, made himself stand after several attempts. His legs shook underneath the strain of his weight, and he wondered how his energy had been so easily drained.

He tried to wrap his mind around this place. Tried to make sense of things. A glance down to his feet showed him that they were bare, toes curling into the sand. He didn't look physically harmed, so why did it feel as though every part of him was on fire? Why did his brain feel too big for his skull?

Almost ready to collapse onto the ground again, he searched his confused mind for answers, brushing away cobwebs that had somehow gathered in his head. Sand. Dull colors. There was a breeze that stemmed seemingly from nowhere, and it smelled faintly like the sea.

Wait. Sea? Piece by piece, he put the puzzle together. But there wasn't a body of water anywhere in sight. No vast black ocean that would confirm his suspicions. Just a colorless chasm of grey sand.

He was relieved, for a few precious moments. But if he wasn't in—

_Do you see us now, Takeru?_

Takeru startled, his eyes snapping open. When had he closed them? Was it because of the nausea that wracked him? And that... that voice. Where had it come from?

_Up here, silly._

His gaze tilted upward. At first, there was nothing there. Then.

Then there was this bright flash of light that seemed so violently cold that Takeru had a hard time believing it was light—especially since this world that seemed so much like the one into which he'd followed Hikari three and a half years ago lacked the presence of it entirely. And... and light wasn't cold, anyway.

It was supposed to be warm. It was supposed to embrace gently, not squeeze and suffocate. He blinked his eyes open once more and gasped in horror at the sight before him.

There was the ocean. The ocean and its loud, threatening waves that crashed against the shore with such force that it didn't seem natural. The ocean and its uninviting, sinister atmosphere that caused Takeru's whole body to shake uncontrollably. The ocean that he believed he'd never see again after his and Hikari's encounter with it three and a half years ago.

_Do you think he knows where he's at, brother?_

_I think so, sister._

Something flickered. Takeru looked around wildly before his wide eyes settled on the shimmering image not too far away from him. He ventured toward it, and the image shifted in response, drifting closer. It wavered, as though buried in water.

He must have blinked or something, because one moment he was trying to decipher what exactly the image was, and the next, he was staring down at two children—one boy and the other a girl—maybe nine or so years old. They beamed up at him as though they knew him, their eyes glistening with mischief and delight.

_What... what the heck?_ he thought.

"Do you want to play?" the girl asked excitedly, grinning. In her hands was a small red ball, and she didn't wait for an answer before she launched it into the air. Out of instinct Takeru's arms flew up to catch it, and when he looked back at her in exhaustion and confusion, she giggled.

It was odd. Terrifyingly so. Of course he didn't want to play. He couldn't stop thinking about how he got here in the first place; how to get his racing heart to slow; and they wanted to _play?_ And why the hell were they _laughing?_ In a place like this?

He opened his mouth to ask who they were and why they were here—and more importantly if they knew _why_ he was here—but before the question could leave his lips, he felt the ground quake beneath him.

"Go," the girl cried gleefully. Takeru struggled to keep himself upright; to keep his eyes on the kids in front of him. The red ball in his hands slipped from his grip as he lost his balance, almost falling onto the sand again. It took a while for him to steady himself.

The ball rolled back to the little girl's feet. She was unimpressed.

"Did you not hear her?" the little boy asked after a moment. "She said go. As in _run._ "

_From what?_ flitted immediately through his weary mind. Seconds later, he heard them laughing, but this time, it wasn't filled with glee or innocence. It was tainted. Horrifying. Wicked.

Familiar. Just like darkness surrounding him. Just like the sea that stretched before him. He didn't know what he was running from, but it wasn't good. He had to get moving.

So he did, one foot propelling in front of the other in frantic, clumsy pattern as he practically threw himself across the sand, drawing in breath after breath but unable to find the correct amount of air to fill his lungs. Where was he going? Was there even a place _to_ go? There wasn't time to find out.

He kept going, ignoring the voice that told him to stop and _breathe_ —to make sense of things—in favor of the one that screamed at him to get the hell out. He ran, unable to pause even as his legs pleaded for him to stop, telling him he couldn't run anymore. Even as his head pounded in perfect sync with his heartbeat. Running. Running, running, running.

Screaming.

It was a painful sound, more intense than the jackhammer echoing in his ears, growing louder; louder; unbearable; a nightmare. It stemmed from every direction, blocking out all other sounds. His legs kept moving without his consent.

Crying.

It accompanied the screaming in a horrifying way, bouncing around him as if off walls. Pain lurked in the air like invisible smoke, suffocating him. The back of his mind recognized those cries, but he still kept running.

Burning.

His whole body ached to rest. Each step was painful. Each breath felt like his last. His surroundings blurred. From what? Tears, pain, exhaustion? A mix of all three? He didn't know.

Tremoring.

Fear attacked him. Consumed him in waves until he shook once more with anxiety. It was the gasoline that kept his legs from stopping. Question after question flitted through his panicking brain, and the lack of answers only made it worse. Then.

Bleeding.

Everything ceased. The screaming, the crying, the burning. But there was no sense of relief. His body folded on itself as he stared in shock at the red mess in front of him, mouth agape in horror.

There was his brother, sprawled out on the sand, eyes closed, as though he was sleeping.

Bathed in blood. His clothes. His hair. His skin. It covered him in a crimson wet blanket—it was the only color in this world of black and white. Takeru felt a sob rise in his back of his throat, and it got stuck there. After his brother was Hikari. Taichi. Sora. Mimi. Jou. Koushiro. Daisuke. Ken. Iori. Miyako. Lined up in a row of red, faces grey, bodies stiff as coal.

"You're too late, Hope. They're dead."

Everything went mute. Even his screams.

* * *

Takeru awoke gasping for breath, dizzy and shaking. He'd bolted up so fast that the room spun, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get it to stop. Couldn't figure out how to breathe. Couldn't get the horrific images in his head to stop flashing, one after another, like some sort of twisted, sick movie.

_Blood. God, there was so much freaking blood... it was... it was everywhere..._

He was moving. Thrashing. And he wasn't aware of it until a hand rested on his arm, forcing him to stop. "Takeru. Takeru, hey..."

Wide, watery eyes searched for the speaker. As his horrified gaze met sapphire orbs that were incredibly similar to his own, his mother's voice said softly, "I'm here, hun. I'm here. It's ok, Takeru."

For some reason, he started talking. Words rose in his throat and escaped his lips in a voice that was too frantic and scared to call his own: "Mom, he was... Nii-san and everyone, they were—and I couldn't do anything to stop it—"

"Shh... it's ok, son," she whispered quietly, soothingly, brushing stray hairs out of his tear-glossed eyes. "It was a dream, honey. You're ok."

A dream. That was all it was. There was no ocean. No blood. No children. Just his mother, his partner, and himself.

It was hard to convince himself that none of that had really happened, despite being so incredibly real. Quaking fingers reached out to touch his mother's hand, feeling her warmth. Savoring it. Then he looked around, recognizing everything that made up his room: his desk, his lamp (which was on), his bookshelf that was only partially filled, Yamato's old guitar, his dresser, a few picture frames, and some other things that were too small for his frightened mind to tell what they were.

He was home. In his apartment. Safe.

His mother smiled at him gently, kissing his forehead. "I'll be right back."

Takeru nodded numbly, blinking back more tears that threatened to break loose. When she left his room, he felt something land on his lap and started.

"Are you gonna be ok, Takeru?" Patamon asked, eyes burning with concern.

He drew in a deep breath, and another, and another. But the air was too repressive to ease the tight knot in his throat, and he wasn't sure how to get his lungs to work properly, or how to quiet his racing heart. He nodded again anyway, stroking Patamon's fur softly in an attempt to reassure him.

Patamon curled into his stomach and closed his eyes. "You scared me."

"Why?"

"You were screaming in your sleep," Patamon explained. "Hearing you scream like that and knowing I can't help you is so scary."

"It was a dream, Pata," he murmured, and he wasn't sure if he said it to reassure himself or his partner.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Takeru started to shake his head, but then stopped, uncertain. "I don't know."

After a few heartbeats of silence, his mother returned. He blinked when she set a glass of water on his nightstand. "Do you want something to help you go back to sleep?"

"No," he whispered, not trusting himself to speak any louder. "I'm fine. Sorry I woke you up."

"Don't worry about it," she replied softly, although Takeru saw the fatigue glistening in her eyes, and couldn't help but feel guilty. He had no idea what time it was, but he knew she had to work in the morning, and she wasn't going to function very well if she stayed up with him.

"Go back to bed, Mom," he told her, and when she started to protest, he added, "Really, I'm ok. It was... it was just a dream. I'm ok now."

She hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he murmured, cracking a tiny bit of a smile. She returned it, leaning forward to kiss him affectionately on his head.

"I'm just across the hall, hun."

"I know." He drew in a shuddering breath when she slipped out of his room again, let it out through his nose. He didn't move until he heard her door click shut, didn't make a sound until he knew she had returned to her bed. Patamon took to the air as the blond shifted, standing up to shut his door. Then he leaned against it, closing his eyes. The world was still tilting and swaying and he tried to get it to stand still for a moment. Tried to figure out how to stop the anxiety that coursed through him like a river.

"Takeru?" Patamon whispered softly.

He opened his eyes again, slowly. Pushed himself up off the wall. He could still hear his heart pulsing in his ears; could still feel it punching at his chest. As he trekked across his room, he picked up his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard. The screen read 2:53 a.m.

It was stupid. Childish. Pathetic. Part of him wanted to punch in his brother's number, desperate to hear his voice. It was a dream—but he needed to know if Yamato was alright. Needed some reassurance.

_He's asleep. No need to wake him up._

He drew several calming breaths as the thought flitted through his mind. It was true. Calling Yamato would only result in worrying or irritating him. His bed sagged a little bit as he sat down on it, leaning against the headboard and allowing Patamon to once again curl into his lap. Takeru's fingers trailed up the digimon's spine, seeking comfort in his partner's fur.

"How bad was it?" Patamon asked quietly.

He didn't know what to say. Didn't know how to explain it. So he kept quiet, kept stroking his fur. "It doesn't matter now."

"I'm here for you," Patamon murmured sincerely, looking up at him with wide blue eyes. "Always."

"I know." Takeru paused. Mumbled, "Thank you."

Patamon's response was to shut his eyes, tucking his wings in close. "You need to go back to sleep."

Takeru sighed quietly, biting his lip. He wished it could be that easy, that he could just crawl back under the covers, close his eyes, and his psyche would be cleared so he could drift back into a peaceful slumber.

But his brain wouldn't shut off, wouldn't stop racing. Thoughts bulleted through his mind. Each one multiplied, building, building, until his skull became a tornado. The storm was too thick to reach the other side—the side where the idea of _sleep_ was actually appealing.

_It was a dream,_ he repeated to himself, his fingers digging into Patamon's fur.  
Carefully and without too much jostling, he slid Patamon out of his lap and onto the pillow beside him, swallowing hard. It wasn't smart to decline his mother's offer—she probably had something that would help him sift through these chaotic thoughts and lull him back to sleep.

_This is ridiculous. Get over it, damn it. You're safe. You're ok. Calm down._

Time passed. He didn't know how many minutes ebbed by as he sat there, trying to regain his composure. Takeru inhaled and exhaled, but no matter how many times his lungs inflated and deflated, the panic didn't go away.

He slipped off the bed again, wiping the sweat off of his brow. His body wouldn't relax. The last time he'd had a nightmare that affected him this much had been three years ago when he and the younger group of Chosen had fought BlackWarGreymon.

Patamon lifted his head as his floor creaked. Takeru gave him a tiny smile. "I'll be right back."

He cracked his door open, using his phone for light, and padded to the kitchen, although he wasn't sure what for yet. There was a cabinet in there that had medicine in it, and he hoped desperately that there was something in there that would knock him out.

He made it to the counter, careful not to stumble into the two chairs lined up against it. Something about being exhausted and wide-awake at the same time made his movements clumsy, though, so he ended up bumping the stove.

"What are you looking for?"

Patamon's tired voice startled him, but he tried not to show it. Tried to breathe normally. "I told you I'd be back," he whispered breathlessly, as he opened the cabinet on the far right. Even though the light of his phone was dim, he could see that his hands were still trembling as he combed through different medicine bottles.

Patamon seemed to have noticed it, too. He pushed himself into the air and landed on his head, before looking down at him worriedly. "You're a little sweaty."

Takeru hummed, distracted. It was all over-the-counter stuff—not that he expected anything different. Frustration bubbled to the surface when he couldn't find anything that would shut his mind and body off. It was no use. He closed the cabinet carefully, not wanting to make any noises that would cause his mother to wake up a second time.

There was no use in worrying her again. He could figure out how to deal with this. Vigilantly, Takeru trekked back to his room. It was uncomfortably warm, so he didn't bother with his blanket when he climbed back onto his bed. He looked down at his phone again, noting that it was now past three-thirty.

He sipped some of the water that his mother had left for him, and grabbed his headphones off his nightstand. If anything would calm him down, it was music. It was a release he found through his brother, was something that helped him escape.

_Don't think about it. Don't think about anything. Just focus on the music._

Patamon sat down beside him silently, not questioning him, and Takeru didn't hesitate to pull him close. His partner's promise from earlier echoed in Takeru's head just as the first song on his playlist started, and he kept those words close to his heart. _Tomorrow,_ he vowed inwardly. _I'll tell you tomorrow._

He left the lamp on, let it illuminate every corner of his room that it could reach, and allowed the music to block out all the thoughts that plagued him.


	2. See Me

"Drown me out, after all this pain you won't see me. Drown me now, through the fire and smoke you can breathe me." — Drown, Get Scared

* * *

**Ch 02 || See Me**

It had been three days since Takeru had that dream, and he still couldn't get it out his mind. It replayed over and over like a song stuck on repeat. And it wasn't a good song: it was haunting. Frustrating. Distracting. He couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him, and even though it seemed ridiculous, he had to stop himself from looking over his shoulder to check multiple times.

So when Hikari suggested that they celebrate the beginning of summer break in the digital world, he didn't object. It seemed like a nice idea, escaping for a while to enjoy the sun. He figured it would help him forget about it for a while, would help him loosen up. Maybe a day in the digital world was what he really needed.

So far, his hopes to relax were being crushed.

His eyes explored every part of the lake before him, wondering how something so beautiful and welcoming could make him feel so uneasy. He drew in a deep breath through his nose, studying the way the water swayed against the shore. The way it shimmered under the sun. The longer he stared at it, the harder it was to ward off the shudder crawling up his spine.

"...think that I should have brought more sunscreen. Hey, Takeru. _Takeru._ Are you even listening to me?"

Takeru started as Miyako's hand came to rest on his shoulder. His eyes snapped up to meet hers, and he felt his face heat up. "What?"

"So you _weren't_ listening to me," she said, making a face.

"He's perfected the art of tuning you out, just like me," Daisuke commented, and Miyako's response was to whack him upside the head. "Ow... hey!"

"That wasn't very nice, Miyako," Hawkmon chided, looking at his partner in dismay. Takeru could hear Hikari and Iori laughing behind them.

"Takeru, did you seriously not hear a word I said to you?" Miyako asked, frowning. Her cheeks were pink with anger, and her eyes were glistening with what seemed to be a mix of frustration and annoyance.

Pushing the thoughts about his nightmare toward the back of his mind, all Takeru could do was grin sheepishly, which was enough proof for Miyako. She stuck her lip out in a pout. "Of course not."

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely, rubbing the back of his neck. "I guess I spaced out."

Miyako rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. "It's ok. Are we going to get in the water or not?"

"Well, it's what we came here for," Iori said.

"I'm not going near it," Tailmon declared, pivoting and walking toward her human partner, who had at some point decided the grass would be more comfortable, and was a good ten to fifteen away from the lake, laying out towels to sit on.

"Suit yourself," V-mon said, running toward the lake with such excitement that it would suggest the body of water was something he could consume. And Takeru knew how much their partners loved to eat.

"Hey, wait for me," Daisuke shouted, and Takeru laughed as he jumped in the water, taking a few steps back so he wouldn't get splashed. Ken and Miyako, however, were not so lucky.

Even though she was in a swimsuit, Miyako still shrieked when she got wet, not loud enough to make Takeru wince but loud enough for everyone to hear. "You're paying for that!"

"Come and get me," Daisuke challenged, grinning.

Seemingly accepting his challenge, Miyako ran in after him, which made Daisuke's eyes widen. This time, Takeru didn't have a chance to prepare himself. As Miyako went under the surface, he raised his hands to block his face but it did little to help.

Decidedly soaked, Ken wiped the water off of his face and asked, "Do you think either of them has even thought about if there are other digimon swimming in this lake?"

"I doubt it," Patamon answered from his place atop Takeru's head. He looked down at his partner and asked, "Do you want to swim?"

Takeru thought about it, but made a face and shook his head. "I think I'll go join Hikari."

"I'll come with you," Wormmon said, blinking several times as if he hadn't recovered from being splashed by Daisuke and Miyako. "I'm sorry, Ken-chan. I'm not a good swimmer."

"Neither am I," Ken added somewhat sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"I'm sure Hikari won't mind more company," Takeru told them. Iori said something about sticking his feet in the water and Armadimon followed him, deciding to sit about ten or so feet away from Miyako and Daisuke so they wouldn't be splashed. Again.

They trekked toward their brunette friend, who was petting Tailmon affectionately. When she saw them, she raised the camera around her neck to see the screen and grinned. "Smile!"

Ken flushed a light pink and Takeru made a face. As she snapped the picture and studied it, her grin faded. "Those aren't smiles."

Takeru laughed as he sat down next to her. "Why are you so adamant about taking so many pictures?"

"I want to make memories," she replied airily. The camera dangled around her neck as she beamed at him. "Pictures are worth a thousand words, Takeru."

Takeru smiled back at her, although it wasn't as carefree. "We have the whole summer to make memories."

Ken sat down on the other side of Hikari, setting Wormmon on the grass carefully. "There's nothing wrong with starting early."

"See?" Hikari said. Takeru rolled his eyes playfully, but he was grateful to see that his friends were smiling and happy and enjoying themselves. Maybe if he relaxed a little, he could do the same. Maybe if he cut the wires that kept dragging him back to that dream, he could enjoy this mini-vacation.

_They're all alive and breathing,_ he told himself, basking in the wave of reassurance that thought brought to his clouded mind.

"Fine. Fine, ok," he decided to say.

"Great! Now actually _smile_ this time." She raised the camera again, capturing his unprepared face once more, and for some reason the unexpected flash of the device made him laugh. It seemed Hikari wanted to capture that moment, too, because she grinned. "That's more like it. I'm going to get some more pictures of the others by the lake, ok? I'll be back."

She stood then, her swimsuit cover-up swaying with her movements. Takeru watched her go, the smile slowly slipping from his face, only to be replaced a moment later as the brunette poked Iori in the shoulder to snap a picture of him and Armadimon sitting by the shore. Hikari was strange sometimes.

His gaze shifted from Hikari to their digimon partners. Wormmon was cuddled on Ken's lap. Tailmon was curled up on one of the towels that were sheltered by the shadow of a small tree, paws and tail tucked in, with her eyes closed. Patamon lay in a similar position next to her, sleeping as well.

It hit him that he wasn't the only one who had lost sleep in the past couple of days. Guilt climbed on his shoulders and stayed there, seemingly enjoying the feeling of weighing him down. Had Patamon received a wink of sleep since Takeru woke up from that awful nightmare three nights ago?

"It's too early in the summer to have that much on your mind," Ken said suddenly, startling him.

Takeru looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"When you spaced out earlier," Ken explained, "you looked a little worried. And the look on your face just now... Is everything ok?"

"Yeah," he answered. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"Did you sleep well last night?"

Takeru wasn't sure how Ken did that: ask a question which stemmed from simple curiosity, and end up being one-hundred percent right. He paused, wondering how to reply. It was a mere nightmare, he thought. Even though it was freshly carved into his mind, it would fade at some point, right? All dreams did. There was no use in bringing up something he could deal with on his own.

"I slept fine."

Ken, however, was not fooled. "You hesitated."

Takeru sighed. "It was just a dream. Nothing too bad." Ken didn't let up, so he said, "I'm ok. Really. Tired? A little. But other than that, I'm fine."

They lapsed into silence as Ken dropped the subject. Takeru leaned back a little, enjoying the warm, playful breeze once again. Should he have told him the truth? Should he speak to Hikari? They both had unforgettable experiences with the Dark Ocean, he knew that. Maybe he should ask for their opinion?

_No._

The word appeared in his mind immediately, shutting down that option, throwing it out. There was no use worrying them, right? He could work this out. The Dark Ocean was a dangerous place, yes. But he didn't want to throw away the very hopeful idea that it could have been a coincidence. Takeru bit his lip, thinking.

A giggle. It drifted through the air, childlike and innocent and oddly familiar, reaching his ears without trouble. Takeru went on high-alert, looking around for the source. "Did you hear that?"

Ken glanced at him in confusion. "Hear what?"

He didn't answer right away, studying his surroundings. It was just his friends, their digimon, and himself here. But his heartbeat quickened just a tad as a small wave of panic rushed through him.

_You're tired. It's a figment of your imagination._

"Never mind," he murmured, looking back at the lake. His friends' faces were etched with joy and laughter. Why couldn't he relax and do the same? Ken was still staring at him, brows furrowed in worry, and he added, "It was just the wind."

Slowly, Ken nodded. But just as Takeru started to believe that it was his mind trying to trick him, he heard it again.

_I'm right here, Takeru. Look closer, look deeper. Don't you see me?_

He felt his blood run cold. He went stiff and once again looked around, trying to locate the owner of the voice that sounded horrifyingly similar to the one in his nightmare. Takeru worked his jaw when his eyes failed him. "I'll be right back, ok?" he told Ken, who eyed him suspiciously.

"Where are you going?"

He didn't answer at first, mainly because he didn't have an answer. Takeru stood nonetheless, eyes locked on the trees surrounding the lake. "Nowhere. Just. Don't follow me. I'll be back."

His legs moved before he could give Ken a chance to respond. He had to find out where that laugh was coming from. The trees called to him somehow—spoke to him in faint whispers of the wind. It blocked out the noises his friends were making, became the only thing on which he could place his focus. A playful breeze wafted around him, causing his hair and clothes to sway, and the grass crunched beneath him as he walked.

The laughter increased in volume as he neared the trees, brushing low-hanging branches out of his way. A voice in his head whispered for him to turn around, and he almost did, but as he continued his trek through the grove surrounding him, his curiosity was getting the better of him.

It drowned out the lingering sense of anxiety, controlled his body, willed his feet to carry him across the forest floor.

It was strange, this forest. There were trees surrounding the left side of the lake, sure. But he never expected for the trees to stretch this far; to cover this much land. The further he went, the more trees there were, and part of him wondered if he would get lost. And if he did get lost, who would find him?

_Do you see me?_

That voice again. His eyes searched the area, looked for signs. He struggled to remember what the little girl in his dream had looked like exactly, but the only thing he could recall was that terrifyingly alluring voice and the fact that she was young.

_I'm right here, silly._

The canopy of leaves above him only continued to grow thicker, successfully blocking beams of sunlight that tried to slip through the thin slices between the trees. It made the area noticeably darker: an unsettling realization. He was becoming increasingly aware of the way his heart thundered in his chest.

_Open your mind, Hope._

That made Takeru freeze. It felt as though time itself had stopped, and he listened intently to the sounds around him: her childish laughter; the soft, gentle call of the wind; the grass that shimmered and swayed under the caress of the breeze; and that one word that echoed, foreboding, in his mind.

Hope. _Hope._ As in his crest. The thing that Takeru was supposed to represent. How would she know that? Come to think of it, how did she even know his _name?_

This was not good.

_See? There you go. It wasn't that hard._

Takeru found himself looking down at a small, barefoot, brunette child for the second time in three days. Except this time, he was awake. Right? He _had_ to have been awake. And the little boy that had accompanied her last time was not present. Fear gnawed at his chest, told him that following her voice into this creepy, unnerving grove alone had been a very, very big mistake.

"Follow me, Takeru."

He did. His legs moved in a robotic trance, one step at a time; and he couldn't find his voice to ask _where_ she wanted him to follow her to. He felt like a puppet and she was the one pulling the strings, the one who had found his inner mute button.

_Why did I tell Ken not to follow me?_ his mind screamed at him. _Why did I leave in the first place? Damn it. Patamon... Hikari, Ken, Daisuke..._ someone, _help..._

No one would, though. He'd practically asked to be left alone. His friends were probably still at the lake, oblivious. Did Ken tell them he had left? If not, had anyone noticed? The little girl pulled him forward with her voice, and he couldn't figure out how to break this spell that captured his senses and rendered him defenseless.

He wasn't sure how much time passed as he walked unwillingly behind the little girl, who began singing softly under her breath at some point. It was an eerie, unfamiliar melody, leaving her lips in odd, twisted fragments; but she was so quiet that he couldn't for the life of him make out the words.

Then she stopped suddenly, and so did he. She turned to face him, and Takeru finally had a chance to look at her. To _really_ look at her.

Brown curls hung limply around her grey, yet smiling face. She looked rather disheveled, he realized, as he noticed her dirty fingernails, sunken eyes, and faded white dress that reached just above her ankles and—

_Oh my god,_ he thought in horror, feeling a dreadful wave of fear engulf him. _Is... is that blood?_

Rusty stains covered the front of her dress, almost like small handprints. It crusted over parts of her skin as well, and Takeru didn't know what else it could be. When she smiled up at him, he saw her teeth were crooked and stained yellow.

"Look at this, Takeru."

Takeru was snapped out of his trance when she pointed at the house behind her. He'd failed to notice it at first, having been so distracted by her appearance, and looked at it. His mind went blank the moment his eyes landed on it.

The house had two stories and looked unstable, with long vines climbing up its walls and towering over the roof, claiming it as their home. The red paint was chipped and fading. Some of the windows were missing, and those that weren't had a spiderweb of cracks, stretching across the glass-like claws. The front door was wide open, but the steps that led up the porch were broken and had collapsed onto the ground in a heap of wood.

"This is my home," the little girl said in a playful, innocent voice. "Mama and Daddy aren't here, though. They never come home. But my brother is inside. C'mon, let's play!"

He fought to stay in place. Even though his legs yearned to turn around and run away from the little girl, he felt compelled to step forward and accept her offer to play. It was a strange, unsettling urge to go inside, to see what was hidden behind those walls, and yet it was horrifying all the same.

But the whole house looked ready to meet its end. It wasn't going to stand for much longer, and if Takeru gave in to the voice that tried to drag him inside, it would take him down with it.

"C'mon," she repeated when he didn't move. "My brother is waiting. Don't you see him? He wants you to play, too."

Takeru's head snapped up without his consent and soulless, haunting black eyes returned his gaze.

That was the little boy from his dream.

He started when cold, cold fingers extended to grasp his hand. Wide-eyed, he gazed back at the little girl, who was now frowning, unamused. "He doesn't like to wait, Hope."

She pulled at his arm with an amount of strength that he couldn't believe someone her size could possess, and the distance between him and the abandoned house lessened considerably.

"Takeru..."

Soft. Gentle. Takeru blinked, heart still punching at his ribcage, so loud that it echoed in his ears. Everything around him shifted and flickered, and he felt the girl's icy, painful grip on his hand loosen.

"Takeru...!"

Why was everything blurry? He blinked again, harder this time, to clear his vision. It worked, for a few moments. Long enough for him to see the panic that crossed the little girl's features, as well as the angry, annoyed look that the little boy sent him. He opened his mouth to scream when the little boy made his way toward him, but no sound would come out.

_"TAKERU!"_

Something in him snapped. He didn't know what it was—perhaps the spell was breaking. Takeru inhaled sharply as a warm, soft hand connected with his shoulder, and he whirled around to face the owner of the hand. Rusty-brown eyes captured his blue ones in an instant.

Hikari. It was Hikari. Behind her was Ken, who was followed by Wormmon, Tailmon, and a very worried Patamon.

"Why... why are you all the way out here, Takeru?" Hikari whispered, her hand leaving his shoulder to caress his cheek. The difference in temperature between her skin and the little girl's made him wince, and—

Wait. Takeru ignored her question and turned back around to look at the small child that lured him out here. But his horrified gaze only saw endless rows of trees, shivering under the wind's touch. The girl, her brother, and the house had disappeared, leaving behind no traces of their existence. Everything was gone.

_Everything was gone._

His legs folded under him, the horror ricocheting in his mind soon replaced with shock. He heard Hikari call out his name again, and was vaguely aware that arms had caught him as he fell, but he could only stare at the space that the house and children had occupied mere seconds ago.

_I just... I just_ imagined _that whole thing?_ he thought, failing to grasp the reality of the situation. _But... it was so real... and I... I could_ feel _her hand on mine..._

"...wrong? Takeru, answer us, _please._ You're scaring me."

Takeru looked at Hikari hollowly, realizing she was there but not really seeing her. He blinked several times, unable to understand what had just happened. Unable to process it. Houses didn't just appear and disappear at random. They didn't just _vanish._ And where had those children gone?

"You have been gone for almost an hour," someone was saying, although he wasn't sure who. It wasn't Hikari this time. Ken, maybe?

"Why did you leave, Takeru?" Patamon asked anxiously, sitting on his folded knees.

"There was... a girl," he murmured without realizing it, and as the words fell from dry lips, he was hit by a new wave of questions from two of his friends and three digimon who had snapped him out of his trance. He wasn't sure how to answer any of them—or if he _could_ answer them—because he didn't even know the answers to the ones bulleting through his head. One, most of all, screamed louder than the rest:

_What is_ wrong _with me?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. :) Comments are greatly appreciated!


	3. Misery Loves Company

"I will keep quiet; you won't even know I'm here. You won't suspect a thing. You won't see me in the mirror. But I've crept into your heart; you can't make me disappear, till I make you." — The Devil Within, Digital Daggers

* * *

**Ch 03 || Misery Loves Company**

Satisfaction. It was pure, wonderful satisfaction that told him it was time to take the next step in his plan. Alongside that satisfaction came a lingering sense of bliss, a flicker of sadistic excitement, as the word _revenge_ ricocheted through his mind.

Oh, he could hardly wait. But patience was a virtue, after all. The time would come soon enough. He stared at the glowing orb placed delicately in front of him in delight, watching six human children play around like annoying vermin. One in particular—a blond, blue-eyed boy whom he recognized as the bearer of the crest of Hope—was sitting off to the side, his face a mixture of emotions: guilt, concern, and a small sliver of uncertainty. Wonderful.

It was intoxicating, this power that those pathetic emotions gave him. He fed off of them; adored the addictive energy that coursed through his veins with each drop of doubt, uncertainty, and fear that crossed each of the children's faces.

Fear. It was what he lived to create; what he came _back_ for. And he could not wait to crush these pathetic insects with it.

Footsteps. A shushing sound. His eyes drifted away from the sphere and followed the direction of the noise, aware that he was not alone. Skeletal hands drummed against the arm of his throne as his eyes crinkled in a menacing smile. "Come out, dearie. I know you are there."

There was silence, at first. His eyes narrowed slightly as his patience dwindled, and after a few heartbeats of stillness, two small silhouettes flickered, before becoming solid and stable, staring at him with wavering strength.

His grin widened. "What is it that you two need, my dears?"

"We have followed your orders, Master," the female of the two children answered, bowing her head. "We had Hope isolated and cornered, just as you asked. But..."

The word he hated the most. His smile faltered. "What happened?"

"Unfortunately, his companions were able to find him before we could lure him completely away," the male child informed. "Saya attempted to bring him into the portal, but his team members arrived first. We were forced to flee before his friends became suspicious."

"I see." He crossed his legs and leaned back into his chair, resting his chin on his bony, gloved hands. "No matter. I had a feeling the direct approach would fail." Then: "That was a smart choice. I've been monitoring your work. You two have done exceptionally well, I must say."

The two children bowed again, eyes closed. "Thank you, Master," they replied in unison.

He smiled again. "Is there anything else you wish to report to me? You still have access to his dreams, yes?"

Saya nodded. "He is under the impression that it is the Dark Ocean that is causing his nightmares. It is only a matter of time before he breaks, Master."

"I would not underestimate him if I were you," he advised, brows furrowing in curiosity. Did she believe the child of Hope would fall so easily? "He has an enormous amount of willpower, that one. You may have cracked his wall, but it will not take him long to glue it back together. Especially with his companions there to protect him."

He had fallen for it once, after all. And he would not allow himself to succumb to that weakness a second time.

"We understand," the boy said firmly with a nod. "Although we must inform you that he has not spoken to anyone about us. He has started to avoid their concern. I believe he is afraid."

He hummed in delight. "That is good to hear."

They observed his reaction and appeared to be pleased with themselves. He himself was quite impressed. Did that mean he should put all of his faith into them? Of course not. They were mere children, after all. Or, rather, souls of children. Neither of them possessed real, living bodies to call their own.

That could be arranged, however. But only if they met his expectations. Only if they kept up their end of the bargain. He had stared betrayal in the face too many times to give them their reward first. They would have to earn it, and he had made sure that they were both aware of this fact before they decided to work for him.

He was not taking any risks. Not yet, anyway. Not when his plan was just coming together as a whole.

"Master?"

He glanced at Saya without showing any hint of emotion, brows raised. He decided to ignore the lost look etched across her face for the time being. "What is it, child?"

"What should we do next?" the girl asked carefully. "About his friends, I mean. What will we do once he tells his companions?"

He thought for a moment. A grin resurfaced on his face as he glanced between the two. "Surprise me."

The boy nodded once more and asked, "I suppose we could take them down with him. Shall we, sister?"

Saya looked doubtful, but only for a moment. But it was long enough to tell him that she was the weaker of the two.

"As long as you are careful about it," he answered for her, smiling wickedly. "They are a strong team. It would be wise to defeat them all separately. But do not wait too long. They are capable of deciphering even the most difficult of puzzles with the correct amount of time."

"Understood, Master," Saya replied unwaveringly. As weak as she appeared to be, she was able to shut off her faults at the right time. A skill worth having, he thought.

"Or perhaps you could destroy them first," he suggested after a moment's pause.

"What do you mean?" the boy asked, blinking.

"Kill two birds with one stone. Or rather, twelve birds. Let them watch Hope suffer. And make sure he knows they are suffering as well." He grinned menacingly. "You may go, for now. It is time for me to send out the signal."

They bowed wordlessly, leaving him in peace. His smirk widened uncontrollably as he thought about moving forward with his plan, and could think of many, many ways to make the child of Hope absolutely miserable.

And he knew just how much misery _loved_ company.

* * *

Hikari gazed emptily out her and Taichi's bedroom window, watching cars blur on the streets below. Her vision went in and out of focus as she stared, a slight frown curving her lips. Her mind felt too full of unsorted thoughts, and yet totally empty at the same time, and she wasn't sure what to do to fix it.

"What are you thinking about?"

Hikari didn't respond to Tailmon's voice for a moment. Her eyes remained fixed on the world outside her apartment, although she wasn't sure what she found so intriguing about it. "Nothing."

Tailmon, of course, was not convinced. She jumped on the desk which Hikari and Taichi shared, eyes pinning her with a concerned, suspicious stare. "You've been quiet for a while."

She hummed to acknowledge what her partner had said but did not offer any other response. Kept her eyes on the window. Traffic continued to flow, and there were people down there, walking. Talking. Enjoying the heat. Enjoying _summer._ Hikari supposed she should, too. Summer only lasted so long. But she hadn't got the good start for which she'd hoped.

"It's Takeru, isn't it?" Tailmon whispered suddenly.

She finally met her partner's worried gaze, her frown deepening. She was an open book to Tailmon. "He said he was fine."

"And you believed him?"

"No," she admitted woodenly. "You saw the look on his face when we found him."

Tailmon quieted for a long moment, as though waiting for Hikari to continue. The brunette was silent, at first, still leaning against the wall. Thinking. Not thinking. Wanting some answers, but not knowing how to get them.

Her brows furrowed as she pondered, unable to erase the horrified expression etched on Takeru's face from her mind. The way he collapsed without warning, awake but unresponsive. The way he stared blankly at her—almost right _through_ her—as though she was transparent. The way he flinched when her outstretched fingers brushed against his shoulders, and once more when she touched his cheek.

He'd been so adamant that nothing had happened. How could she believe him, though, when it took him almost twenty minutes to stop shaking? When it took him just as long to come to his senses, even _after_ they found their way out of the forest? The empty look on his face was a picture that burned unbidden in her brain, and as much as she wanted to forget about it—as much as _Takeru_ wanted her, Ken, and their digimon to forget about it—she couldn't. Her mind wouldn't let it go.

After a pause, she murmured, "What do you think he saw, Tailmon?" She looked at her partner again, frustration swimming in her gaze. "There had to have been _something_ that made him act like that."

"We can only guess at this point," the kitten digimon replied. "Patamon told me he was acting strange for the rest of the night. Takeru hasn't talked to him, either."

It was strange for Takeru to keep secrets. Not only was he keeping things from her and the others, but from Patamon as well? It didn't make any sense. She worked her jaw, trying to find some sort of explanation. But she couldn't figure out a puzzle that was missing so many pieces.

The soft, yet sudden knock on the door that split through the silence brewing between Hikari and her partner made her jump in surprise. Both of them looked toward the door, and without waiting for a reply, Taichi turned the doorknob and walked in.

"Mom says supper is ready," Taichi told them. He grinned and added, "This time it isn't liver sticks. Ready to live for another day?"

She tried to smile, but it was watered down somehow and turned out to be much weaker than she'd expected. "Thanks, Onii-san. We'll be out in a little bit."

Taichi's grin disappeared instantly. "What's wrong?"

She and Tailmon exchanged silent glances, sharing a conversation without audio. Takeru didn't want anyone to know for some unexplained reason. And if he wanted to keep it a secret, who was there to tell her she couldn't, too? She chewed the inside of her cheek, not sure what to do.

Then again, she couldn't explain what had happened to Takeru that day in the digital world. Perhaps it was stupid to keep it from Taichi, but she didn't know exactly what to say to her brother when she herself didn't even know what occurred within the forest by the lake.

Her silence seemed to add to Taichi's suspicions, seeing as he opened his mouth to say something else, but Hikari forced herself to smile brighter; to appear fine; if it would erase the concern written across her brother's face. Pushing herself up off the wall, she asked, "What time is it?"

"A quarter after six," he muttered, fully aware that she'd avoided his question. Despite this, Hikari brushed past him, her ears tracking Tailmon's soft, quiet footsteps as she leapt off the desk and followed her into the kitchen.

Taichi had already helped their mother set the table. Five plates were placed in front of each chair, meaning that their father had returned from work at some point while their mother had been cooking. Or, rather, while she'd been attempting to cook.

She loved her mother. Really, she did. Dearly. But whatever was in the pot in the middle of the dining room table certainly did not look like what Hikari considered food.

"Hikari, dear, could you grab one of those bar stools by the counter?" her mother asked as the young brunette entered the room. "It's for Tailmon. I'd grab it, but my hands are full."

Hikari nodded but then realized that her mother wasn't facing her, and could not see the gesture, so she said, "Ok, Mom," and did as told.

Tailmon hopped onto the stool as soon as Hikari placed it in front of the fifth plate, which was meant for her digimon partner. It wasn't unusual, really. Tailmon had joined them for meals for about three and a half years now, and her presence didn't faze her parents in the slightest. They weren't even surprised to see Agumon every now and then.

It was a sweet gesture, she thought. She considered herself lucky to have such accepting parents; especially considering Tailmon was technically classified as a monster. Even if Hikari never looked at her that way.

Taichi returned to the kitchen, keeping a watchful eye on her as he took the second pot from their mother's grip and placed it next to the first one in the middle of the table.

"Wash your hands, kids," her mother told them. Hikari rolled her eyes playfully, beginning to laugh as the woman that looked like an older version of herself extended a hand to pet Tailmon affectionately. "You're such a beautiful cat, Tailmon. Sometimes I forget you're a digimon."

It was even funnier when she heard Miko meow somewhere from across the apartment, probably in jealousy. Tailmon practically melted as Hikari's mother's fingers trekked up against her spine, and the brunette could swear her digimon partner was purring.

It was nice to have a small distraction, but Hikari could still feel Taichi's eyes on her when she went to the kitchen to wash her hands, taking it as a sign that told her they would talk later. She couldn't avoid it. He knew something was up and she kept her back turned, pretending not to notice.

When everyone was seated, they began to eat in silence. Most of the time, Hikari didn't mind. It was comfortable and warm, helping her keep her thoughts in some semblance of order. But the silence that stretched across the table today was a little suffocating, forcing her to surrender to the thoughts that she'd hoped to hide from.

Takeru. Takeru smiling. Takeru disappearing. Takeru in the forest. Takeru staring. Takeru shaking. Takeru smiling again. Takeru keeping something from her; from Ken; from all of them. Takeru pleading not to let anyone know, for some odd reason. And she had nodded, just like Ken did, because the smile on his face was somehow genuine, even though the back of her mind told her that it was fake.

"It's nothing, ok?" he'd assured, lips tilting in a beautiful, convincing lie. "Nothing happened. I'm _fine._ Don't worry about it."

Her best friend encased her thoughts and held her prisoner, and she wasn't able to escape the jail cell in her head until she had answers.

"May I be excused?" she asked suddenly, quietly, the question spilling from her lips without warning. Her mother looked at her plate, which wasn't exactly empty, and then back at her. When her brows furrowed in worry, Hikari said, "I'm just not hungry, is all. I'll put it in the fridge for later, though. I promise."

"Sure, dear," her mother murmured, a tiny smile playing her lips. Hikari returned it weakly, and then stood rather quickly, disappearing into the kitchen to put her leftovers away.

She pleasantly ignored the looks Tailmon and Taichi gave her as she headed to the room she and Taichi shared, shutting the door behind her with a soft _click._

Quietly, she leaned against the door and sighed, thankful to be alone. It was rude, yes, to leave like that. And at any minute, her brother or partner was bound to check on her. But as she trekked over to the bottom bunk of her bed, she realized she didn't care.

Collapsing onto it, she buried her face into her pillow. Pulled her blanket over her body. It was probably around seven now and was too early to fall asleep. She closed her eyes anyway, inhaling deeply, hoping that as she exhaled, her problems would flow out of her mind just like the air from her lungs. She repeated this action many times, breathing in slowly, and letting that breath out through her nose, but it didn't work as well as she'd pictured it would.

_Why are you lying to me?_ she thought, fingers digging into her pillow. _Why won't you tell me what you saw?_

The doorknob jostled. Working her jaw, the child of Light turned away, facing the wall as her and Taichi's bedroom door opened.

There was silence, at first. Hikari stared emptily at the wall, and after a few moments, Tailmon leapt onto her bed, weaving around her blanket and finally settling on filling the empty space close to Hikari's stomach, curling into a ball. She was purring again, Hikari noticed, a comforting sound. Quiet. Soft.

"Do you think things in the digital world are ok?" she murmured into her pillow without having to be prompted.

Tailmon lifted her head and blinked bemusedly. "Why do you ask?"

"I... I don't know." She paused to let out another breath, turning her head so she could look Tailmon in the eyes. "It's just—do you think he saw some sort of digimon?"

"You've got to stop thinking about that, Hikari," her partner told her. "It's eating you up. He'll tell you when he's ready."

"And what if he doesn't? He's my _best friend,_ Tailmon. Why wouldn't he tell me right when it happened? Why does he think he has to hide? Maybe he _did_ see a digimon, and was afraid to tell us because—"

"I think you should sleep on it," Tailmon interrupted.

"What good will that do?"

"It will calm you down," Tailmon said. "There is a possibility he is telling the truth. Maybe he _didn't_ see anything."

"Right. So he just was acting the whole time."

Tailmon's eyes darkened slightly. "That's not what I meant."

Hikari held her gaze evenly for a moment and felt her resolve to dampen considerably. Her partner was only trying to comfort her, after all. "I know. I'm sorry."

Tailmon could be right, she realized. Perhaps she was being paranoid. Maybe Takeru really was fine, and she was getting worked up over nothing. Maybe it was all in her head. Takeru would come to her if he was worried about something, right? Right. He would. He wouldn't keep things from her.

_Then why do I still feel like this?_

"Did something happen to Takeru?"

Taichi's voice startled her, and for the second time that evening, she jumped in surprise. How long had he been standing there? Had he been listening? She sat up, turning to face her brother with her best neutral expression. "No."

"And I'm supposed to believe that?" he countered, crossing his arms. When Hikari remained silent, he sighed quietly and shut the door behind him. "You've been acting strange all day. I didn't say anything at first because I thought that maybe you needed some space, but Hikari... I heard that you mentioned the digital world. Did something happen when you guys went there last week?"

Hikari bit her lip to keep from spilling everything. Taichi wasn't stupid—far from it, actually. Reckless? Yes. But he was not stupid. That meant at some point, he would figure out what he was keeping from him. She shouldn't lie to him.

_It's not considered lying if nothing happened,_ an insane part of her brain told her, and for some odd reason, she decided to listen to it. She found herself shaking her head, feeling a small, soft smile curling at her lips. "Nothing happened, Nii-san. Just... I was thinking a little too hard. But it's ok. Everything's ok."

She wasn't sure if she'd said to convince herself or to convince Taichi. Either way, her brother wasn't convinced and opened his mouth to say so. Before any kind of argument could leave his lips, however, a long, loud beep sounded somewhere across the room.

A second one followed mere seconds after the first. Hikari's eyes left her brother's in favor of the desk they shared, where her d-terminal sat. Slowly, she disentangled herself from her blanket and stood, trying to ignore the way her stomach churned anxiously.

A red light blinking at the corner of the screen indicated that she'd received a message. Hesitantly, she grabbed the device and opened it.

_I've sensed a disturbance in the area. It was brief, but I'm sure it wasn't my imagination. Keep an eye out, both in the digital world and your world. I will contact you if there is a second occurrence. Please let me know if you find anything that may have caused it._

_Gennai_

Hikari felt her heart leap into her throat. Felt her knees go weak. She looked at her brother, wide-eyed, seeing that he'd finished reading the message as well.

Taichi's solemn demeanor did not fade as he looked directly into her eyes. "You were saying?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 Feedback is appreciated!


	4. Secrets

"Just washing it aside, all of the helplessness inside. Pretending I don't feel misplaced is so much simpler than change." — Easier to Run, Linkin Park

* * *

**Ch 04 || Secrets**

Tap. Tap, tap, click. Click. Backspace, tap, _taptaptap_ , enter. Enter. Click. Accidental caps lock. Shift. Tap, tap. Backspace, backspace, backspace.

Slam.

Koushiro startled for a moment as Taichi's hand connected on the top of his laptop, closing it roughly, and glanced up at Taichi with annoyed eyes. "Taichi, why did you do that?"

"You've been working on that for the past _hour_ , Koushiro," Taichi said. "Give it a break, would you? I'm not just gonna sit here and watch you type on your computer."

The computer expert sighed in exasperation, seeming unhappy that he had been interrupted. Taichi didn't care.

"You could have been more careful with it," Koushiro said. "It's a laptop, not a punching bag. Did you not read Gennai's email? Something is out there, Taichi, and it's only a matter of time before it resurfaces. I need to figure this out."

"As I said, you've spent quite a bit of time _figuring it out,_ " Taichi groaned, feeling equally annoyed. "Take a break. I didn't come over to watch you unravel mysteries." He paused, collapsing onto the redhead's bed unceremoniously, sighing in the same manner that his friend had. "I'm just as frustrated as you are, you know. But it's _summer vacation_ , damn it. Relax a little."

"I believe he's right, Koushiro-han," Tentomon commented, speaking for the first time in about ten minutes. "You can't continue to work if you spend all of your energy on one thing. Your body will wear out eventually."

Agumon, who had been equally quiet from his place next to Taichi on Koushiro's bed, nodded. "You should stop for a little bit."

Ever since they'd received the message from Gennai, they took turns retrieving their digimon partners from the digital world. It was a safety move, to have their partners close in case something did happen in either world. After all, they were stronger together. So far, his and Koushiro's parents hadn't questioned it. He wasn't sure about the others.

Despite their words, though, Koushiro did not seem fazed. Pursing his lips, the keeper of Knowledge leaned back in his chair, staring at his now-closed laptop. "The younger kids were in the Digital World about a week before we received the message. Did Hikari mentioned anything out of the ordinary when she arrived home that day?"

Taichi rolled over and mumbled something into one of Koushiro's pillows, making his response incredibly difficult to comprehend.

"What?"

"I said," Taichi started, taking a deep breath, "that she hasn't spoken of anything. When she came home, she was really quiet and a bit shaky. But when I asked her, she just closed up. She wouldn't even look me in the eye. It was... worrying, to be honest. I haven't seen her act like that since..." He stopped.

_The Dark Ocean_ lingered on the tip of his tongue, but the words refused to leave his lips. Saying it out loud stung his insides a little, brought up memories he longed to forget. He decided to remain silent for a moment. Hikari rarely spoke of that. As a result, neither did he.

"...since before we defeated Belialvamdemon," he finished quietly, staring absently at the ceiling.

"And?" Koushiro prompted.

"And what?"

"Has she said anything _now?_ "

The keeper of Courage frowned slightly. "Not yet. I heard her talking about the digital world before I came into the room. She and Tailmon... they were talking about Takeru. When I started asking questions again, she kept blowing off each one. It was like she was trying to cover something up. And then we got that message..." He paused and sighed again, looking away. "She stopped trying after that. She just froze. I've never seen her so scared."

Koushiro kept quiet as he finished. Tentomon and Agumon were silent, too, and stared at him curiously.

"She hasn't been herself lately, come to think of it," Agumon remarked absently.

"You said she was speaking to Tailmon about Takeru, correct?" Koushiro asked after a moment.

Taichi nodded without really realizing it and gazed at him with his brows raised. "Why?"

"Have you spoken to Takeru lately? Perhaps he knows something."

Taichi thought about it. He hadn't talked to the young blond lately. But maybe Hikari had. With school having ended almost two weeks ago for summer break, the younger group of Chosen were probably hanging out more than they were during the school year.

"Maybe they fought about something," Tentomon said suddenly.

Taichi looked at his partner, confused. "What do you mean?"

"Hikari and Takeru are pretty close," Agumon explained for him. "They could have gotten into an argument. Maybe that's why Hikari is so worked up."

It was possible. Taichi had to admit that he was worried, for his sister and her best friend. Agumon's words caused something to stir in his gut, and his older brother instinct told him that he should be checking on both of them at that very second to see if they were ok.

He knew from the moment Hikari had come home from the digital world that day that things were not as they should be. But no matter how hard he tried to pry, she wouldn't open up. Wouldn't spill any details.

"If that is the case, surely they would have resolved any conflict between them by now," Koushiro pointed out, speaking the other's thoughts aloud. "Those two are like siblings. They don't argue for long before one of them apologizes to the other."

"She said something about him lying to her," Taichi murmured suddenly. He sat up, no longer able to fight that brotherly urge to see if she was alright. His leader instinct also told him that no matter how far Hikari or Takeru tried to distance themselves from anyone, they were still a part of a team, and whatever secret they were hiding couldn't stay a secret for long.

"What are you doing, Taichi?" Agumon asked.

"I'm going to ask the younger kids what happened in the digital world that day they went to the lake," he answered as he stood, grabbing his d-terminal from the other side of Koushiro's bedroom. "There's gotta be something they're not telling us."

"Taichi—" Koushiro started, but Taichi raised his hand, frowning.

"No. I may be wrong, but the others could know something. They were in the digital world, too. Maybe they do know something. And if they don't, well, at least I know I tried."

Koushiro bit his lip, thinking it over. "It couldn't hurt to ask, I suppose." Then, after a moment, he added, "Let me know if they have anything."

"Planned on it," Taichi said and began typing on his d-terminal.

_Hey, guys. It's Taichi. Just out of curiosity, did you guys run into any digimon or anything when you went to the digital world a few weeks ago? Or have you noticed anything out of the ordinary? I know you probably would have said something earlier if you had, but... Koushiro and I are looking for leads._ He debated on hitting the 'send' button but hesitated. Decided to be honest and added, _And I'm a little worried about Hikari. Has she said anything? To any of you? She's been acting strange since she came home that day. Thanks. Let me know asap._

He included Daisuke, Ken, Iori, Miyako, and Takeru in the message, and gave them a few minutes to reply. Waited. Waited. He wasn't known for his patience, obviously, because Koushiro sighed and said, "Stop pacing, Taichi. It hasn't been that long."

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"Don't be," his friend replied. "It's just you were so adamant that _I_ needed to take a break, and now _you're_ the one riled up."

Tentomon gave an affirmative nod. "Now Koushiro-han is the one that's right."

"Sit down and wait a little longer. They'll respond at some point," Agumon added.

Sitting back on the bed, Taichi parted his lips to reply, but a knock on Koushiro's bedroom door caught the teen's words and trapped them in his throat. The four of them looked at the door as it opened slowly, revealing Koushiro's mother, holding a plate of cookies.

"Sorry to interrupt," she said, smiling sheepishly, "but you four have been in here for quite a while, and I figured you might need a snack. Anyone up for a cookie?"

Tentomon and Agumon didn't object. Her smile grew as the two digimon raced toward her, eyes alight with excitement and hunger, and Koushiro quickly stood to take the plate from her grasp before their digimon accidentally knocked it out of her hands.

"Are you two working on something?" Koushiro's mother asked, gesturing to Koushiro's closed laptop and Taichi's d-terminal.

"It's nothing important," Koushiro said easily. "Thank you, Mom. We appreciate it."

"Thanks, Koushiro's mom," Agumon cried.

"These are delicious," Tentomon said.

She smiled and disappeared into the hallway, and Koushiro set the plate on the floor for their partners, careful as to not break it. Then he returned to his desk chair, his own smile fading as looked at Taichi solemnly. While the digimon could easily be distracted, he was unfazed. "Back to the topic at hand..."

Taichi's d-terminal beeped before he had a chance to respond, bringing his mind back to what they had been talking about. He didn't hesitate to open up the message but was disappointed when his eyes skimmed over what had been sent. It didn't include the answer he'd been looking for.

_We stayed around the lake. Nothing too bad happened,_ Ken had written.

Nothing too bad. That had to mean _something_ had happened, then, didn't it? A few moments later, he received a similar reply from Miyako: _We just went swimming. I haven't heard from Hikari in the past few days. Is she ok? She's not sick, is she?_

Daisuke and Iori had been next, but neither of their responses gave away anything useful. In fact, their responses seemed a little _too_ innocent.

Takeru did not reply.

Taichi cursed under his breath, wanting to throw the damned device across the room if it would soothe the frustration bubbling through him. Since he couldn't do that, though, he just settled for letting slide out of his grip and onto Koushiro's bedsheets and worked his jaw silently.

"What did they say?" Agumon asked, abandoning the plate of cookies to look up at his troubled partner, frowning.

"Nothing. That's the _problem._ " He glared at his d-terminal with such menace that it would suggest the device had insulted him. "Either they're all out of the loop, or they're hiding something, too."

"You don't know that," Tentomon assured gently.

"Apparently, none of them have talked to her," he explained. "Ken said nothing 'too bad' happened. Too bad? How am I supposed to take that? I'm not dumb, Koushiro."

"Nobody said you were," Koushiro said carefully. "You _tried,_ Taichi. Maybe they are telling the truth."

He took a few moments to calm down. But he couldn't stop thinking about how Koushiro hadn't seen the horrified expression on Hikari's face when they received that message from Gennai. Hadn't heard the pieces of the conversation between Hikari and Tailmon that he had heard minutes beforehand. There was definitely something wrong, he knew it.

"Did Takeru say anything?" Agumon asked.

Taichi sighed. "No."

"He could be busy," Koushiro offered.

"Whose side are you on?"

"I'm not picking sides, Taichi." The keeper of Knowledge gave him a stern look, frowning. "I'm trying to be _logical._ I want to figure out what caused the disturbance that Gennai spoke of in his message. I know you want to figure it out, too, and I know you're worried about your sister, but you're looking for answers from people who might not _have_ them."

Taichi bit his lip to stop himself from making a rather rude comeback. He sighed again and decided that, yeah, ok, his friend did have a point. But there was still one person who hadn't replied to his message yet.

"Who are you going to talk to now?" Koushiro inquired when Taichi picked up his d-terminal again.

"Yamato," he answered without hesitation. "He is Takeru's brother, you know. And Takeru seems to be the reason why Hikari is acting like this. Maybe Yamato can figure something out."

"Did you not hear a word I said?" his friend asked, exasperated. "Give them some space. Let them be. Gennai sent that message to all of us—meaning Takeru received it, too. Don't you think he would have told us something out of the ordinary happened?"

"Yeah, he would have," Taichi said. "So would Hikari. So would the others. But there's a reason they _haven't._ And I want to know that reason."

He typed out a message to his best friend before Koushiro could reply. He didn't even bother to read it over for mistakes before he hit send. Yamato's response was instantaneous.

_I'm going over to my mom's place tomorrow. I'll talk to him then._

Taichi didn't know if he could wait that long.

* * *

Across Odaiba, Takeru stared at his d-terminal, unsure of what to do. Taichi's message lit up his screen and made his heart thunder in his chest. Made his throat tighten up.

He'd screwed up. Badly. And it was starting to show.

His blue eyes skimmed over the words Taichi had sent him. Twice. Three times. The keeper of Courage was asking for help on finding a lead, but the only thing that really stuck out was Hikari's name.

Taichi was worried about her because of Takeru's choices.

Biting his lip, the blue-eyed teen closed his d-terminal. He couldn't deal with questions yet. It hurt to lie, yes. But how could he explain what had happened to him in the forest if he wasn't even one-hundred percent sure that it had _actually_ happened? That he hadn't been hallucinating the whole time?

They'd think he was insane. Hell, _he_ thought he was insane. There was no explanation for what his imagination had created, was no way to prove that it had been real. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make sense of any of it.

"Do you think I'm crazy?"

He'd said it out of nowhere. The question was directed toward his digimon partner, who was sitting next to him on his bed. As soon as he realized that Takeru had addressed him, his ears perked up slightly. "Why would I think that?"

"I told you why," he murmured quietly. "Do... do you think that I really did imagine that? The kids at the lake, I mean. And the house."

Patamon was the only one he felt safe enough with to admit anything to. Not because he didn't trust anyone else, but because he knew that even if he were crazy, his partner wouldn't judge him. He'd always be there for him. And his point was proven when the little guy crawled onto his lap, resting a paw on his chest and looking him straight in the eye with absolute certainty.

"You're _not_ crazy, Takeru. Trust me. I've seen crazy."

"Like what?" Takeru asked through the knot forming in his throat.

Patamon thought for a moment. "Like the silly devil who thought he was strong enough to take my partner away from me when I'd only first met him. Like that stupid ball with wings that thought he could tear apart an inseparable team. Like a vampire who thought he could take over an entire world full of humans who he'd only heard of in legends. Not only once, but _twice._ I wouldn't be surprised if he tried again. Who was he to think he could outsmart the human race when they had us on their side? And... and like people who put cherry flavoring in _water._ What is the point in that? That, Takeru, is _crazy._ "

A bubble of a laugh slipped from his lips without his consent. His fingers dusted against the little guy's fur, wondering how he was so lucky to have a partner like him. "Thanks," he muttered. "I needed that."

Patamon smiled reassuringly, but it faltered as he glanced at the d-terminal in Takeru's other hand. Confusion swam in his eyes. "Did you get a message from someone?"

Takeru exhaled slowly. "It's from Taichi. He's worried."

"Why?"

"They haven't found anything that could have caused what Gennai was talking about in his message. And he's worried about Hikari."

"Hikari's worried about _you,_ " the small digimon said, poking Takeru in the chest. "And so am I. _Tailmon_ has even been asking me about you, you know. And..." Patamon hesitated, lowered his voice slightly. "You're still having nightmares. Don't you think that could be connected to the forest? Or possibly even Gennai's message?"

Takeru stiffened slightly, swallowing hard. He didn't want to talk about the nightmares. _Couldn't_ talk about the nightmares. "Why would it have anything to do with that?"

"I don't know," Patamon said. "But there is a small chance. If you talk to someone besides me, they might be able to help you."

"I don't need help, Patamon."

He wasn't sure why he said it. The words came out on instinct, rolled off of his tongue reflexively in a sharp, not quite whisper. But Patamon's hurt, concerned expression was enough to soften the glare in his eyes, enough to make him regret speaking in the first place.

"I hate seeing you hurt like this," his partner told him tearfully. "I hate seeing you struggle. You need to tell someone that's not _me,_ Takeru... you need to explain what happened. They're not going to think you're insane. They're your friends."

Patamon had said it like it was true, and Takeru wanted desperately to believe him. They _were_ his friends. Friends didn't judge. Didn't jump to conclusions right away. Didn't lie to each other. But the bigger part of him told him that they didn't need to know, that it would complicate things. It was the part that he was afraid of. He wasn't sure which part to listen to, or what to do. Hikari really was concerned about him.

_You know you can't hide from her,_ he thought. _Just tell her already. She'll believe you. She has to._

He put the d-terminal down, decided to ignore Taichi's message for the time being. It was rude, sure. But he needed some time to clean up this mess that he had created, needed some time to fix things with Hikari.

Takeru pulled his phone out of his pocket, fingers hovering over the keyboard. He bit his lip. Hard. Didn't stop until a small sting of pain told him he'd broken through the skin. He tasted blood and didn't care.

Patamon stared at him as he finally punched in his best friend's number. "Who are you calling?"

"Hikari," he answered. Explained, "You're right. I need to tell someone."

Takeru brought his phone to his right ear and waited. One ring. Two. Three, four, five.

Six. Seven.

Her chirpy voicemail filtered through his speaker after the eighth ring. Takeru opened his mouth to leave a message when his phone offered him the chance, but the words wouldn't form.

He sat mutely until it beeped, telling him that his time was up. Takeru had no choice but to set his phone back down, and when he did, he gathered a confused Patamon in his arms, leaned against the headboard, and wondered if it was best not to tell her.

"She didn't answer," he murmured softly without having to be prompted, feeling his throat close up for the third time.

"Try your d-terminal," his partner offered. "She probably just doesn't have her phone on her."

The blond stared at the device on his nightstand, remembering his reluctance to reply to Taichi. Took a deep breath. And another for courage. "O...ok."

He reached for it again; picked it up. Ignored the words on his screen as he created a new draft and typed up, _Hey, Hikari. Can I talk to you? Added, I need to tell you something about the forest._

He hesitated. Stared at it for a long time. His thumb was poised just over the send button, and he worked his jaw. Swallowed shakily.

Discarded it.

Wondered where his headphones were.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Feedback is greatly appreciated. :)


	5. Unfolding

"Blurring and stirring the truth and the lies. I don't know what's real and what's not." — Going Under, Evanescence

* * *

**Ch 05 || Unfolding**

The elevator doors parted. Ishida Yamato and Gabumon stepped out onto the desired floor to which it had brought them. Yamato pocketed his phone after sending a text to Taichi, making his way toward his mother's apartment with his partner at his side.

_Just talk to him. Please. Hikari is still shutting me out._

That was what Taichi had said. It confused Yamato, not only because it was unlike Hikari to keep to herself, but also because somehow her strange behavior was linked to his brother. And if Takeru was involved, well, that meant there were certain lines that Yamato had to cross to figure out what exactly was going on with his brother.

He clicked his tongue as he walked, wondering why Taichi had been so quick to respond to his message when Takeru hadn't replied to the one he sent only an hour ago. Was he still asleep? It was a little after nine, and Takeru rarely slept in past eight-thirty. That alone was enough to make him even more concerned.

"You're quiet," Gabumon said suddenly, looking up at Yamato with confused ruby eyes.

Yamato let out a low whistle. "Just thinking, is all."

The digimon tilted his head. "You look upset."

"I'm not upset."

Gabumon quieted but didn't remove his gaze from his human partner. Yamato just kept moving, and before long, they were standing in front of the Takaishi apartment.

When he knocked on the door and no one answered, the worry brewing in his stomach grew. His brows furrowed and he frowned. Chewed on the inside of his lip. Tried again.

Behind the door, there was a click. Then soft, almost inaudible footsteps. The doorknob jostled, and a few more clicks reached Yamato's ears before the door separating him from his brother opened slowly, revealing his mother's somewhat tired face.

The fatigue etched in her features eased as she smiled at him—a warm, yet somehow sad smile. "Sorry, hun. I just got out of the shower."

Yamato's eyes drank in her wet hair, the towel placed delicately over her shoulders and her nice attire. He returned the gesture slowly. "It's ok. Um..." He stopped, uncertain of what to say. He wasn't good with small talk. "Are you off today?" was the only thing he could come up with.

She shook her head, widening the door to allow Yamato in the apartment. "Only until four. I won't be home until late tonight, maybe around midnight or so—oh, hello, Gabumon."

"Hi, Takaishi-san," he murmured, catching onto her quiet tone.

Yamato slipped off his shoes silently, also noticing that his mother's voice was low and soft, but not understanding why. When Yamato's brows shot up in confusion, she nodded her head toward the living room and explained in a whisper, "Takeru is asleep in the living room. I wanted to wake him because you were coming over, but..."

She paused, biting her lip. Yamato tried to read her expression. Wondered why she stopped. But then she said suddenly, "You're welcome to walk right in, Yamato. I gave you a key... did you lose it? Do you need a new one?"

She was good at that. Changing the subject. Out of the corner of his eye, Yamato saw Gabumon heading off toward the living room where Takeru was, in fact, asleep on the couch.

Now alone with his mother, Yamato shoved his hands in his pockets awkwardly, not sure what else to do with them. Looked down at his socks, kind of ashamed to admit that she was right. He didn't know what the hell he did with the copy of the key she'd given him.

But still, she'd avoided finishing her sentence and Yamato wasn't going to let her get away with that. So he shrugged and muttered, "I left it at home. Is Takeru ok?"

His mother hesitated, seeming unsure of how to respond. She brushed a stray wet hair away from her face and her gaze slid to the floor as well. It was a nervous habit they shared, he supposed.

"Yamato... there's something you need to know."

Yamato's heart sank in his stomach immediately. He didn't like that tone. "What?"

"I'm worried about him," his mother admitted, frowning again. "He hasn't been sleeping well."

Yamato stiffened slightly, fingers curling into fists in his pockets. Repeated in a whisper, "What?"

She glanced at the couch where her youngest son slept. Her eyes glistened with sadness, were webbed and tired. "I think he's been having nightmares. He won't talk to me about them, and..." She drew in a shaky breath, wrung her fingers nervously. "Do you think you could talk to him? I know that it's a lot to ask, but... I don't know what to do."

She sounded like she was about to cry. Looked close to tears. Yamato was torn between wanting to hug her and tearing up himself because he couldn't remember the last time she'd cried in front of him. Couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her so worried. Probably years.

Slowly, he placed a palm on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. Murmured, "Sure, Mom. I'll talk to him."

She paused again. Nodded quietly. "I... thank you," she whispered and smiled sadly at him. He returned the gesture as her thin hand rested on his.

They didn't speak for a while, and then his mother disappeared into her bedroom. Yamato sighed under his breath, trying not to think about the last time his mother smiled at him in a way that wasn't sad or awkward. Decided it was time to wake his brother up.

Except when he turned around, Takeru was already standing behind him.

He inhaled sharply, a hand quickly finding its way to his chest. "God, Takeru... don't do that. You startled me."

Takeru blinked sleepily at him. "What were you and Mom talking about?"

Patamon was fluttering just over his head, and Gabumon was standing behind him. Yamato frowned. Glanced back at their mother's closed door. "Nothing. Did we wake you up?"

Takeru shrugged, rubbing an eye tiredly. "No, I..." He stopped, uncertain. "I just heard your voice, and, well. Is Mom alright?"

Yamato nodded and raised his brows, studying his younger brother. He immediately noticed the rings under his eyes. The lack of color in his face. His mother's words echoed in his head instantly, and he automatically wanted to know why his brother looked so exhausted.

"I guess I slept in, huh?" Takeru said abruptly. He gestured to the clock hanging on the wall in the front room, smiling sheepishly. "I'll go get dressed. I had an alarm, but I left my phone in my room, so..."

He trailed off then, letting Patamon perch himself on his head. Rocked on his heels. Yamato wanted to ask why Takeru was in the living room rather than his bedroom, but Takeru was already reaching for his doorknob, and he clicked the door shut before Yamato had a chance to open his mouth.

Frowning once again, Yamato chewed the inside of his cheek. After a few moments, he made his way to the front room to wait. Seated himself on the couch, rested his chin on his hand. It was all he could do, he supposed.

So many questions burned their way into his mind, and alongside the concern that brewed in his stomach was the loud siren blaring in his head that was triggered by his mother's words.

His brother wasn't sleeping well. When he'd caught of glimpse of Takeru's face, he knew it was the truth. Knew that something was up. But he didn't know what it was, and that was what worried him most.

Yamato leaned against the couch, releasing another sigh. His mind drifted back to the conversation he'd had with Taichi via d-terminal and thought about his concerns regarding Hikari. Wondered if Hikari knew something that he didn't.

A soft click. Yamato looked up, catching Takeru's gaze once again. As the blond walked toward him, Yamato saw Patamon flying behind him.

"Are you ready?" Takeru asked.

Yamato stood slowly, followed by a very quiet Gabumon. "Sure."

Takeru walked over to the couch; picked up the fleece blanket with which he'd apparently been sleeping. As he began folding it, Yamato raised his brows again. Found the chance to start repeating the questions that played ceaselessly through his head out loud.

"So you found the couch more comfortable, huh?"

Takeru stopped moving, unexpectedly hesitant. Since he wasn't facing him, Yamato couldn't read his expression. Couldn't figure out why he was silent for so long.

"It was cold in my room," he said softly after a pause, before finishing the chore at hand in a haste. There was a clattering sound as he placed the blanket on the far end of the couch.

Yamato watched as Gabumon extended a paw to pick up what his brother had knocked off of the coffee table and said, "Here, Takeru."

It was a dark pill bottle with a purple lid and a label that read, "Melatonin: sleep support." Yamato narrowed his eyes suspiciously, recognizing the medication, but said nothing as Takeru took the container from Yamato's partner, not looking at him as he placed it back on the table.

Across the flat, a doorknob jostled. Both boys looked to find the source and saw their mother exiting her bedroom once again.

She glanced at them, worry evident in her expression as her eyes landed on Takeru. Then she glanced at Yamato and smiled softly. "Have you eaten?"

Yamato blinked at the unexpected question and remembered that he hadn't. He'd abandoned his appetite for information on his brother's well-being. Left his apartment with a stomach full of concern and suspicion rather than food.

But Takeru didn't need to know that. Neither did his mother. So he shrugged, ready to say that he'd already eaten breakfast, but his stomach spoke first. Loudly.

"He hasn't," Gabumon confirmed and pleasantly ignored the glare Yamato shot him.

His mother frowned in disapproval. Yamato looked at her quizzically when she turned around and slipped into her bedroom for the second time, returning moments later with her purse. "Why don't you guys get something to eat while you're out?"

He shared a look with Takeru, who looked a little guilty. "I'm sure we can find something here, Mom," his brother said.

"Nonsense," she argued as she pawed through her purse. Seconds later she found what she was looking for, fishing out what looked like yen. She trekked over to Yamato, took his hand, and placed the money in his palm, smiling affectionately. "Enjoy your day, boys."

"Mom, we can't—" Yamato started, but she held up her hand.

"Take it, hun. It's ok." Her smile wavered as she met his eyes, but she quickly covered it. "Have fun, ok?"

"Ok," Takeru, Gabumon, and Patamon echoed, while Yamato continued to stare at her. Her eyes still conveyed the message that she was concerned about Takeru, and Yamato was, too. But Takeru walked over to her, kissed her on the cheek, and smiled in a way that seemed to ease her worries.

He kept that smile as they bid her goodbye and left the apartment, digimon partners close behind them. Remembering the exhausted look that painted his brother's face when he'd woken up earlier, Yamato couldn't help but think that Takeru was getting way too good at pretending.

* * *

He and Takeru exited a small indoor/outdoor cafe about an hour later, carrying a small to-go bag that contained the rest of their digimon's lunch.

It was funny, really. Gabumon and Patamon had both exclaimed that they were famished, and yet neither of them had been able to finish their food. Yamato rolled his eyes as he thought about it, chuckling.

"What are you laughing at?" Takeru asked him, brows raised.

Yamato nodded his head in the direction of Patamon, who sat, completely stuffed, on Takeru's shoulder. "Our digimon."

As if on cue, Patamon released a sigh and complained, "Takeru, my stomach hurts."

Takeru grinned. "...sorry?"

"You're no help."

Gabumon gave Patamon a helpless look and then glanced at Yamato and Takeru quizzically. "Where are we going now?"

Yamato shrugged. So did Takeru. Neither of them had thought about it, he supposed. They were simply wandering around the city with no exact destination. Yamato didn't mind, honestly. Didn't really know where _to_ go, since they'd finished eating. Neither of them had any money, except the change that was left from the money their mother had given them for lunch.

"Nii-san?"

"Hmm?"

"I'm sorry I didn't answer your message."

When Yamato tried to capture his brother's gaze, he saw that Takeru was looking at the concrete as they walked, hands in the pockets of his jeans. He raised an eyebrow curiously. "It's ok. You said you left your d-terminal in your room with your phone, right?"

Takeru hummed. "I just wanted to let you know that I didn't ignore it."

"And Taichi's message?"

Takeru stopped walking then. Looked at him confusedly. "How did you know about that?"

"He told me," Yamato answered simply, meeting his eyes. "He's worried about Hikari." After a quick pause: "And you."

"I know."

"Are you going to tell me why?"

Takeru didn't answer right away. Lowered his eyes after a moment, frowning. Shifted on his feet. Yamato wasn't sure what scared him more: Takeru's silence or the troubled look that graced his features.

"I don't know," he mumbled eventually. But his voice was too timid, too small, too young to belong to his brother.

Yamato's gaze landed on Patamon then, who had become solemn the moment Takeru's tone changed. The orange and white digimon simply looked over at his partner, big blue eyes swimming with a seriousness that he only obtained when the situation was dire.

"Are you alright, Takeru?" Gabumon asked softly, taking one of Takeru's hands which dangled limply at his sides.

Takeru flinched away. Curled his fingers into fists. Looked up at the sky, eyes wandering off to a place unknown. And he stared into the distance for a long time, his gaze turning glossy and filled with confusion and pain. Never answered Gabumon's question.

He started walking again after a long pause, a gentle breeze tugging at his clothes. Yamato felt the wind play with his clothes and hair, too. Felt it caress his skin. It would have been relaxing if it wasn't for the fact that Takeru was walking away from him.

"Hey," he called out, irritated. "Hey. Takeru—I'm not done talking to you."

He grasped his brother's wrist, forcing him to stop. Frowning deeply, Yamato shot Takeru an angry look. "Why won't you tell me? What happened to Hikari?"

"Nothing happened to Hikari," Takeru snapped instantly. "It's me, ok? She's worried about me because of—"

He stopped there. Drew in a deep breath. Yamato's grip on Takeru's wrist loosened, the glare in his eyes softening. The anger building up in his chest faded and was immediately replaced with confusion.

"Because of what?" Gabumon prompted gently.

Everyone looked at Takeru. They were almost alone on the sidewalk save for a few people strolling in the opposite direction, but Takeru was acting as though they were on a crowded street. He met Yamato's eyes for a very brief moment before he looked at his hands.

"I can't tell you," he whispered.

"I can't help you if you don't talk to me, Keru," Yamato said quietly.

There was a soft pause. Takeru bit his lip, scared and uncertain, and glanced at Patamon for what seemed to be courage. He took another deep breath, and then another one before he finally murmured, "If I told you, you'd think I'm crazy."

"You were there when we were dragged into another world," Yamato reasoned. "And you were there for the events that followed. I've seen enough of crazy."

"That's what I said," Patamon spoke up suddenly. He looked at Takeru and pushed himself off his shoulder, flapping his wings to keep himself airborne. Said in an almost inaudible voice, "Tell him the truth, please."

Yamato looked at his brother, pleading for answers but knowing that he could only push so far. He reached out carefully, took Takeru's hand in his own. Coaxed his fingers to uncurl. "What happened?"

"The forest. Hikari's worried because she and Ken were the ones that found me in the forest," Takeru began finally in a shaky voice. "It was the day at the lake, I mean. You know, when we decided to go to the digital world. I thought I saw someone, so I followed her. I told Ken not to follow me. I know it was dangerous, but I couldn't make myself stop. Before I knew it, I was lost."

Yamato nodded, waiting for his younger brother to continue. He did, slowly, his voice quivering as he spoke. Still, Yamato listened as Takeru spent the next ten or so minutes explaining. He paused a lot, reluctant. Afraid. Could never look Yamato in the eye. By the time he was finished, Yamato noticed the slight tremor in his hands.

"They took you to a house?" Yamato echoed.

He nodded quietly. "But when Hikari and Ken found me, it was gone. Just like that."

"And you told Hikari about this?"

"He hasn't told anyone except me," Patamon answered when Takeru hesitated.

It made sense. Explained why Hikari was so distant. Explained why Taichi was concerned about both of them. Yamato pursed his lips, thinking. He wondered who this little girl was, or the boy whom Takeru had said was the girl's brother was. He looked at the concrete beneath them, trying to put the pieces together, trying to figure out what humans would want with his little brother.

Except the way Takeru had described them made it seemed like they couldn't have been humans. Could they? They weren't digimon, he was certain of that.

"I'm not crazy," Takeru said suddenly, his eyes widening when Yamato was silent for a long time. He instantly captured his tear-glossed gaze. "Nii-san, I'm not crazy. It was... it was so real—"

"I know," Yamato assured. "You're not crazy. I just."

He paused, unsure of how to put it. They had appeared and disappeared so quickly that Takeru told him that he had thought they were a figment of his imagination, but Yamato knew that wasn't the case. Knew that there was more than that. Knew that they were _real_ —his brother's distress told him so.

"You saw ghosts, Keru? In the digital world?"

It sounded strange, Yamato knew. This time, Takeru hesitated. "You think they were ghosts?"

"What else could they have been?"

"I... I don't know," Takeru replied, uncertain. "It's the digital world. How could human souls get there?"

It was a lot to take in, and his brother sounded so fearful, so confused and desperate; but Yamato wasn't sure how to soothe him. It was a guess, really. He'd have to talk to someone else, have to see what they had to say.

"We could ask Koushiro," he suggested. "You remember Gennai's message, right? Maybe... maybe there could be a link somewhere."

"See?" Patamon poked Takeru in the nose, frowning worriedly. "I told you it could be that."

"They're right," Gabumon said abruptly. "We could go to the digital world and see what we can find there."

Takeru didn't answer. Once again he looked away, working his jaw. Yamato knew he was still nervous, so he took a step forward and said gently, "I'm up here, Takeru."

"Sorry, Nii-san... it's just... there's more." Takeru glanced at Patamon uneasily before looking at his hands as though the way his fingers knotted together anxiously was intriguing to him. "I... I've been having nightmares about those children."

Yamato's blood ran cold instantly. An icy, ominous shiver traveled up his spine and he felt goosebumps rise on his skin. His eyes went wide, breath hitching, body stiffening.

Nightmares. He had known his mother was telling him about Takeru's sleeping habits was true, but knowing _why_ made it more real somehow. But nightmares told an entirely different story: he couldn't help his brother in the realm of his dreams. Couldn't chase away the things that haunted him while he was asleep. He wasn't always there, couldn't always be there, and he felt angry suddenly because of that thought.

A gust of wind attacked Yamato's clothes suddenly and with such force that it almost made him stumble. He felt Gabumon grasp onto his left leg. Heard Patamon's disgruntled cry as he was almost carried away. Heard the little guy's name roll off Takeru's tongue as he caught him.

It wasn't the nice, soft breeze from earlier—that was for sure. This was strong and powerful, almost unnatural. It came out of nowhere, ripping leaves from trees, causing blades of grass and nearby flowers to shudder violently under its rough caress.

"Wh-what the...?" he murmured, his voice almost drowned out by the deafening wind. He gently pried Gabumon from his leg so he could run to Takeru, but never let go of his digimon partner's paw.

"Nii-san..." Takeru gasped in horror. "Nii-san, _run._ "

He never had the chance to reply. Takeru clutched Patamon to his chest with one hand and grabbed Yamato's in a death grip. And then they were running, oblivious to the people that struggled to stay upright as the powerful wind raged on.

He wasn't sure how many of them were in the area until the panic that the sudden gust had created was voiced by others around him. People screamed and shouted. People ran into stores and other buildings nearby for safety. Takeru and Yamato were not those people.

They didn't stop for a while, legs moving blindly. Takeru glanced back a few times, stumbling, but not falling to the ground. Confused and somewhat terrified, Yamato could only allow his brother to drag him away.

"What... what are we running from, Takeru?" he rasped, right as they turned sharply into an alley.

Takeru never responded. Just kept moving. It seemed as though it was following them. Panting, Yamato shut his eyes to stop the debris in the alley from getting in them. Couldn't protect himself, his brother, or their digimon from the rocks and dirt that rose with the wind to attack them.

He felt a sharp tug in his arm as Takeru lost his balance. Heard his cry of pain, mixed with Patamon's voice, as he fell.

It was blurry. One moment he was running with his brother and the next, the ground was rising up to attack him. His legs folded somehow, hands too stunned from being empty to catch him.

"Yamato," Gabumon shouted, sounding terrified. "Yamato, hold on to me. I'll digivolve."

But the wind wouldn't stop. He couldn't respond to his desperate partner, couldn't see if his brother was still in front of him or if he was somewhere else.

"Nii-san...!"

"Takeru," he cried, reaching out desperately. But the hand that he grasped was too small to be his brother's. Too cold. Too thin.

He dared to open his eyes again and felt what was left of his breath leave him as dark, empty eyes—inches away from his face—bored into his sapphire blue ones.

There was a blur of brown hair, of sickly pale skin, of red-stained cloth. The owner of the eyes wore a grin that was carved from a blade far too shaky. Takeru called out his name, but his gaze was trapped by hers. He couldn't look away.

"Boo," she whispered, right before Yamato was enveloped by darkness.


	6. Creatures Lie Here

"Monster, how should I feel? Creatures lie here, looking through the window." — Monster, Meg & Dia

* * *

**Ch 06 || Creatures Lie Here**

Takeru felt like he might explode.

He stared at the hospital bed that his brother currently occupied, his fingernails digging into his palms as he curled them into fists. It stung, but he barely noticed. Was too busy trying to figure out how to smother the anxiety that was steadily building in his chest.

He was confused. Scared. Lost. Was desperate to find a rational explanation for what had happened to him and his brother just an hour ago—or had it been two already?—and wondered how he was supposed to tell his _parents_ what had happened if he couldn't even figure it out.

His mind was reeling, thoughts circling around and around in his head with no intention of stopping, and he couldn't grasp any one of them long enough to even attempt to slow them down. It was like some sort of rollercoaster that was stuck on an endless loop, uncontrollably fast and unpredictable. Except there wasn't an operator; wasn't anyone there to hit the brakes and put him at ease.

But he wanted this ride to stop. Needed this ride to stop. Needed to make sense of things, to find the logic, to take a breath and _stop_ thinking altogether.

"It's hard to stay on your lap with your leg bouncing like that, Takeru."

Takeru glanced down at his partner, who was curled up in his lap, and he met Takeru's gaze with concern. He'd forgotten the little guy was there, had barely felt his weight at all.

"Sorry, buddy." He planted his feet securely on the ground to stop his legs from shaking. Drew in a deep breath in hopes that it would help soothe the nervousness that skyrocketed through him. "I just... it's a lot to take in."

It had happened so fast. The wind had come out of nowhere, had nearly swept them off of their feet; they'd had no choice but to run. He'd grabbed his brother's hand and did just that, but they hadn't been able to escape it. It was everywhere, attacked them from all directions; there was no way out.

Then. Then _they_ showed up. Grinning just like last time, the little girl looked into his eyes almost tauntingly—her hair and clothes swaying chaotically in the wind—with her brother at her side. Takeru had been so horrified that he'd had to swerve in another direction in an attempt to avoid running into them—but instead, he had gone straight _through_ them.

He'd never forget what that was like. Would never be able to get that foreboding, icy chill that bulleted through his body out of his mind as he passed through them. He wondered if anyone else had felt it as well, or if he was the only one.

But when he'd finally pulled himself together and turned around, Yamato was on the ground, bleeding and unconscious. And the wind had stopped.

He shivered as he thought about it, unaware that he'd pulled Patamon close to him until he squeezed his little body so hard that he squeaked in surprise.

"Sorry," he repeated instantly, releasing the small digimon at once.

"It's ok—just warn me next time," Patamon replied before his expression turned solemn. He inclined his head to meet his human partner's gaze, pressing a paw firmly to the boy's chest. "Takeru... you're shaking."

He didn't respond, at first. Avoided Patamon's eyes. Stared at the hospital bed, where his unconscious brother lay, along with a slumbering Tsunomon. "Tell me you saw them, too."

Patamon blinked. "What are you talking about?"

"The children. You saw them, too, right?"

Patamon's confused expression was enough proof to tell him that he hadn't. Takeru bit his lip, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Had they really been there? Or had he imagined it in the midst of the chaos?

"I'm losing my mind," he whispered.

"No, you're not," Patamon assured instantly. "I wasn't looking. We will get to the bottom of this, Takeru. I promise. We will find out what that was, and who—or what—those children are. Ok?"

"...Ok," was murmured, but Takeru didn't really remember agreeing. He stroked his partner's fur coat before looking back at his brother.

He looked horrible. There were scratches on his face and there was an IV hooked into his right arm, mixed in with a bunch of other wires of which Takeru didn't know the purpose. His ankle was wrapped in some sort of brace—it was sprained, the doctors had said—and there was a small reddish, purple bruise just below his temple, probably where his head smacked the alley floor.

He winced at the memory, wishing they were anywhere but here. Wishing that they hadn't gone out in the first place. Then his brother wouldn't be hurt, and he wouldn't be stuck trying to come up with a reason _why_ his brother was hurt. The problem was, there was no escape—there were so many wires, so much noise, and Takeru couldn't help but think that this environment did not fit his brother at all.

He was ok. The doctors reassured him of that. More than once. But for some reason, as he looked at his brother's bruised and otherwise pale face, he couldn't believe it.

Takeru shifted in his chair, reaching for Yamato's hand. It was limp and cold, but for some reason holding it was reassuring. Calming. He squeezed it gently as though the action was enough to pull him out of his slumber. As though it would heal the wounds on his body. As though it would erase the past few hours from their lives.

"I'm sorry," he murmured suddenly and meant it with every part of his being, even if he wasn't exactly sure why.

He stared for a long time. Different scenarios played over and over through his mind—what if they hadn't gone anywhere? What if he hadn't told his brother about the children, the forest, and the nightmares? Would they be safe—or at least would Yamato be safe?

No. That was ridiculous. Surely _that_ couldn't be why they were here. It had to be a coincidence, had to have some sort of explanation. But he was getting tired of things happening for no logical reason.

Rewinding back to the lake. Smiling, laughing friends. Glistening, beautiful water. Warm, welcoming sun. Ken and questions. More questions. The little girl's voice pulling him through the trees like he was attached to strings. Her bloodstained dress. Her soulless eyes, ones that looked so much like the ones peering at him through the broken windows of that house she claimed to be her home.

And then Gennai's message. And Taichi's message, and Yamato's message, and Patamon was right—there had to be a connection, damn it. Why couldn't things just make _sense?_

Yamato's hand twitched.

Takeru automatically looked at his face, his hand tightening around his brother's in anticipation. In his lap, Patamon moved, but Takeru paid little heed; was too focused on his brother, whose eyes were now fluttering. His face contorted in pain and Takeru's frowned, his heart skipping a beat.

"Nii-san?" he whispered hopefully.

Tsunomon had roused from his slumber when Takeru spoke and shifted to look at Yamato in concern. "Are you ok, Yamato?"

Yamato winced. Takeru watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed, only to gasp a second later. Takeru's eyes widened, wanting to ease the Yamato's pain but not knowing how.

Takeru knew he should have alerted someone now that his older brother was awake. A nurse, maybe. That would have been the smart thing to do, after all. But his heart was thundering in his chest, and he couldn't will himself to stand. Couldn't will himself to leave the room. Instead, he repeated in a quiet murmur, "Nii-san? Can you hear me?"

"Takeru, why... why am I in a hospital?" Yamato said eventually, sounding exhausted and confused. He glanced around with eyes too glassy to belong to the teen Takeru so fondly called his older brother. He squeezed his eyes shut, his hand twitching once more under Takeru's. "Wh-what happened?"

"We were walking in the city," Takeru answered softly, unable to stop the words from tumbling from his lips. Maybe if he relayed them to his brother, maybe if he said them out loud, it would make more sense. "And we were talking about the children, remember? And Taichi and Gennai's messages—"

"What about Gennai's message?" Yamato looked completely confused.

Takeru paused. Blinked a few times. Closed his mouth. Patamon pushed himself out of Takeru's lap and tilted his head to the side. "We were running from the wind," the digimon explained slowly. "And it was after we were talking about Gennai's message."

Yamato moved his hand away from Takeru's, bringing it up to his head. He winced again when his IV caused a resistance and looked at his younger brother quizzically. Repeated, "Why am I here?"

"You hit your head," Takeru said, brows raised. "Then the wind, it stopped—"

"What wind?" Yamato slowly glanced at Tsunomon as if for answers, and the round digimon stared at Takeru and Patamon, seeming completely perplexed. "What are you guys talking about? Hey—what happened to your face, Takeru?"

"What?"

"It's bruised," Yamato told him, extending his hand slowly to brush his fingers against Takeru's cheek. Takeru winced, and so did his brother, and he heard Yamato gasp in obvious discomfort.

Takeru opened his eyes without even realizing that he had closed them, saw that his brother's face had lost a significant amount of color. His eyes widened, and the sharp pain that Yamato's gentle touch had caused faded instantly, was replaced with frantic concern. "Nii-san, are you alright? What hurts?"

"Nothing," he rasped after a moment of complete silence, shifting as though he was trying to get more comfortable. "Nothing, Keru. I'm alright."

"Are you cold? I can get the nurse; she'll give you more blankets—"

"I want to know why I'm _here_ ," Yamato said, looking at him with eyes that for a moment swam with pain, and he looked as lost as Takeru felt.

"Don't... don't you remember?" Takeru whispered, fear gnawing at his chest.

"I... I remember that we were eating lunch," his brother said uncertainly. "Mom gave us money for lunch, and..." He stopped, brows furrowing as he thought. "I... I don't know."

"I'm not sure I can recall anything after that, either," Tsunomon murmured.

"We were explaining what happened to Takeru." Patamon sat on the edge of the hospital bed carefully, big eyes staring at Yamato. "The forest, and the children that Takeru—"

"You tripped and hit your head," Takeru interrupted, inwardly taking a deep breath. "You hit it really hard, and... and then the ambulance came."

He didn't remember. Takeru couldn't ignore the wave of horror and panic that that thought brought him, couldn't figure out why he felt so nervous all of a sudden. He drew his hands in closer to him, feeling incredibly small. Yamato gazed at him with horribly confused eyes, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to explain each and every detail to him. Not again. Wasn't sure if he _could_ do that.

Footsteps sounded somewhere outside the door. Frantic. Quick. All four of them started when there was a loud gasp before Takeru and Yamato's mother's voice whispered, "Oh my god."

Takeru barely had time to turn around before he was enveloped in a warm, motherly embrace. "Oh my god," she kept murmuring, hands wrapping so tightly around Takeru's shoulders that it was beginning to hurt. "You're ok... you're both ok... I was so worried, and the storm, it was on the news, and I got that phone call, and Hiro—I mean, your father, he's on his way—oh god, Yamato..."

Her voice broke, dissolved into tears. She released Takeru as quickly as she had hugged him, bringing a hand to her mouth. "My boys," she said tearfully. "You're... you're covered in bruises... What _happened_ to you two?"

It was a good question. Takeru opened his mouth several times, and Yamato didn't speak. It must have been so heartbreaking for her to see her sons like this when they were both completely fine and in one piece when she'd sent them off to the city merely hours beforehand.

But if his brother didn't know his side of the story, how could Takeru explain his? The shock of it all came out of nowhere; it settled on his shoulders and crushed him, coursing through his veins at a speed that was impossible to stop.

He stood up without telling his legs to do so, wove around his mother with such haste that it shocked both of them, and ignored the surprised look that Patamon shot him.

"I... I have to go to the bathroom," he said with a voice that was suddenly breathless and booked out of the hospital room before anyone else had a chance to speak. It was rude and sudden, sure, but there was no way he could stay in that room—not with those questioning, tear-glossed eyes staring pleadingly at him; not with Yamato like this.

He ignored the voices that shouted his name. Didn't even pay attention when Patamon started to follow him. His legs moved aimlessly, eyes searching for the sign that was labeled restrooms. It didn't take him long to find it; and the halls blurred as he raced to the door, ignoring the medical perfumes that surrounded him.

Ignoring the nurse that shouted at him to slow down.

Ignoring the noises that echoed loudly and tauntingly throughout the halls.

Patamon called out to him again, seemingly not caring that he was in public, but Takeru was already closing and locking the bathroom door. It was too loud. It was too much. Panting and pulling at his hair, Takeru leaned against the door, suddenly overwhelmed with fear. Anger. Confusion.

Realization. It had barely registered that there had been people around to witness the wind storm that he and Yamato had been caught up in. Didn't even click in his mind that it was everywhere; of course something like that would be on the news.

But that just made it more real, and even though he wasn't sure what had caused it, his mind kept going back to the little girl and her brother; kept replaying that memory like it was a scene that could be rewound again and again in a movie. And the more he thought about it, the more nauseating and uncontrollable this fear that exploded in his chest became.

But where was everyone else? It had been only a few hours—surely one of the Chosen would have contacted them by now; would have said something. Or was he the one that was supposed to tell _them?_

It had all been blurry—from the moment he'd spotted Yamato's unconscious body to the moment the doctors announced his brother would be fine—and in the midst of the chaos, he had barely remembered to check and see if his d-terminal or his cell phone were still in his pockets.

_They probably have seen the news,_ his mind rationalized. _But I should have called someone. I should have let_ someone _know._

He was scared. Terrified, because he'd probably be talking and explaining, and he couldn't explain this, couldn't figure out why they had been targeted or—more specifically— _who_ it was that was targeting them. Targeting Yamato.

"I'm not crazy," he murmured over and over again because he knew it had to be true, even if the panic told him the opposite. "I'm not crazy. I'm ok. I'm fine. I'm not crazy."

He raced to the sink with more haste than necessary, turned it on with hands that shook for reasons he couldn't control. Wasn't sure if he'd switched on the hot or cold water, but cupped his hands under it anyway, not waiting to find out. He splashed his face, ignored the urge to wince when it hurt, and washed away the sweat that gathered on his brows.

He stared at the water that bubbled at the bottom of the sink, which was running too fast to properly drain, and reminded himself once again that he wasn't insane, that it wasn't his overactive imagination this time, and that soon... soon, it would all make sense.

He wasn't aware that he'd left his hands to dangle loosely under the faucet until scorching-hot water burned his skin and caused him to stumble away from the sink with a painful yelp. The sting did nothing to soothe the fear that consumed him.

He cursed under his breath and rubbed his hands, which were now red and raw. Left the sink running as he stared at them. Gasped when a sudden shiver trekked up his spine.

Lights above him flickered briefly, but it was enough to capture his attention. Takeru's eyes snapped upward, heart thrumming painfully in his chest, wondering why he'd sought refuge in the _bathroom,_ of all places. He was overcome with the desire to leave and return to his brother's assigned room, to find Patamon, to be anywhere but in this space that all of a sudden felt too tiny.

_Get out of here,_ his mind screamed at him. _Get out of here now._

He was about to do just that when he realized the sink was still on. The keeper of Hope rushed to turn it off and gazed up into the mirror one last time.

And what he saw made his stomach want to climb up his throat and leap out of his mouth.

The glass was fogged up from the steam of the hot water, and written messily, as though with tiny fingers, it read: "Next time, he won't wake up."


	7. Walls Carefully Constructed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!

"To give up all the hope of feeling weightless; it's the only other way for us to breathe." — Refuge from the Wreckage, It's Alive

* * *

**Ch 07 || Walls Carefully Constructed**

Sora's grip on the pair of crutches in her hands was so strong that her knuckles were turning white. She watched wordlessly as Ishida-san—Yamato's father—helped ease Yamato into the front seat of his van, and was almost deaf to her friend's words when he argued that he didn't need help.

His father, of course, ignored that comment. Placed a somewhat annoyed Tsunomon in Yamato's lap. Didn't pay attention to the complaints that the digimon wouldn't have made if he were Gabumon.

"Sora?"

"Hmm? Oh, right." She blushed lightly as she placed the crutches in Yamato's outstretched arms, careful not to harm the bruise on his arm that had been caused by the IV. It wasn't nearly as noticeable the one by his eyebrow—nor was did it look like it was bothering him as much as his ankle seemed to be—but she still felt the need to be cautious.

Once Yamato was situated seemingly as comfortable as he could be, Ishida-san turned toward the group of teenagers surrounding his vehicle. "Were you guys wanting to head back with us?"

"Yeah," Taichi answered, and Sora nodded soundlessly. Ishida-san nodded as well and gestured for them to get in the vehicle.

Taichi slid behind her to open the other backseat door of the van, urging her to climb in. She did not miss the glance Taichi spared his sister, who stood completely still next to a glassy-eyed Takeru. Sora frowned in concern when neither of the two younger teens returned their gazes. "Are you two coming?"

Takeru blinked at her. His face was pale, almost grey. The angry bruise below his eye only made it stand out even more. He glanced at Yamato for a fraction of a second before his gaze swam to his mother, whose webbed eyes were locked solely on her oldest son.

"I'll, um. I think I'm just going to head home with Mom," he murmured after a moment, hands in his pockets.

Yamato looked hurt, for a brief second. His eyes glistened with a pain that Sora recognized instantly, but it was gone before anyone else seemed to notice, and he said, "Are you sure, Teek?"

Takeru nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Y-yeah."

"Don't you have to work?" Yamato asked their mother.

Takaishi-san shook her head slowly, swallowing, and hesitated before she admitted, "I... I called in on my way to the hospital."

There was a bit of an awkward pause. It threaded itself through the van and into the lot that Takaishi-san, Hikari, Takeru, and their digimon occupied; made the air sort of uncomfortable. Sora wasn't sure what to say or how to break the tension.

Eventually, Ishida-san cleared his throat. "If that's what you want, son, I won't stop you. You should put some ice on that bruise, though. But I think we should get you home so we can elevate that foot of yours."

The second part was directed toward Yamato, who nodded distractedly and gave a clipped, "Sure."

"I'll go with Takeru," Hikari said suddenly. "If that's ok with you, of course," she added hastily when Takaishi-san looked at her in surprise.

"It's no trouble, dear, as long as your mother knows where you are," Takaishi-san replied with a tearful smile. She looked at Sora, who offered a quick smile; and then at Taichi, who nodded to her and Hikari in approval. Then she glanced at Yamato one last time. "Your father is right, Yamato. You need to prop up that ankle. The doctor said you should rest, too."

"Ok, Mom," he muttered, shifting. Sora could no longer see his expression, but his voice was quiet. The kind of quiet that meant something was on his mind.

As Ishida-san turned the key and the vehicle roared to life, Taichi climbed into the seat neighboring Sora's. Takaishi-san waved at them as the door closed, her eyes still considerably red. Sora decided to smile, more genuinely this time, as Yamato shut his door as well.

They peeled out of the hospital parking lot slowly, and the ride back to Yamato's apartment was quiet. Sora kept her gaze on the window, watched the world swim by as they turned onto the street.

"Have you two eaten? Should I pick something up?" Ishida-san asked suddenly, looking at Taichi and Sora through the rearview mirror as they stopped at a light.

Sora glanced at Taichi, who shrugged and then said, "Hikari and I ate before Takeru called."

"I've eaten, too," Sora answered. "Thank you, though."

Hiroaki's eyes strayed to Yamato for a brief second before he glanced back at the road. "And you?"

Yamato hesitated. "Takeru and I ate a few hours ago." He paused, and Sora caught the grimace that flitted across his face. "I think."

Taichi raised his eyebrows. "You don't remember?"

Yamato sighed, rubbing his temple. "Not really."

Ishida-san eased his foot onto the gas when the light turned green. "Did you tell the doctor that?"

"No," he muttered with a shrug.

"And why not?"

"Because Tsunomon doesn't, either." Yamato gestured to the quiet, possibly sleeping orange digimon in his lap. "So I'm not sure if it's because I hit my head."

Sora and Taichi shared a knowing glance, and she knew instantly by the look in her friend's eyes that it was something they were going to talk about later. She felt something rise within her—a familiar dread that started somewhere in her stomach—and she swallowed, wishing that Piyomon was with her.

Ishida-san released a low whistle. "I'm going to drop you three—well, four—off at the apartment, ok? I have to pick up Yamato's medicine at the pharmacy."

Yamato looked at him in confusion. "Why can't you do that now?"

"Because I'd feel much better knowing you're sitting at home resting instead of being cramped in this car," his father said.

At some point, they had turned onto the street that Yamato and his father's apartment was located. He slowed down and turned into the small parking lot, pulling up as close as he could to the lobby before he switched gears into park and said, "Do you need me to go up with you, son?"

"It's a sprained ankle, Dad. I'll be ok," Yamato assured, putting on a flippant smile. Sora watched as the blond's father hesitated, creases of worry forming on his forehead.

"Don't worry," Taichi said suddenly, unbuckling his seatbelt. "We'll make sure he gets there in one piece."

"And we'll make sure he actually sits down and rests," Sora added.

The two teens climbed out of the van before Yamato even had a chance to unbuckle. Taichi opened Yamato's door, and Sora took it to herself to carry Tsunomon since Yamato's arms would be occupied by his crutches.

Taichi took the crutches long enough for Yamato to situate himself so he could get out of the van as painlessly as possible. Then they helped steady him as Yamato stood shakily. Sora didn't miss the way he winced.

"Are you sure you're ok?" Ishida-san asked, looking ready to get out of the van.

"It's... I'm ok," Yamato said after a moment. "I'm ok, Dad. Go to the pharmacy."

"We've got it from here," Sora assured, giving the older man a warm smile.

"If... if you're sure," he said hesitantly. "I've got my phone on me. Call me if you need me, alright?"

"Ok, Dad," Yamato said, exasperated. The crutches clicked on the ground as he moved away from the car so Ishida-san could pull forward again to leave the lot, and added, "We'll see you in a little bit."

"Alright. Be careful. And prop that foot up," he added when Yamato clicked away.

Sora heard the engine rev again, but the three teens—and a still somewhat sleepy Tsunomon—were already making it toward the lobby.

The journey up to Yamato's apartment was quiet. They moved slowly toward the elevator—("These things make me nervous," said Tsunomon)—and waited somewhat patiently for it to bring them to the desired floor.

Once it beeped, they slipped through the doors as they parted, and Yamato said, "You were right by the way, Taichi."

"About what?"

"Takeru and Hikari have been acting strangely," he answered as they neared his apartment door.

Sora blinked and then raised her brows. "What are you talking about?"

"They've been shutting me out since the younger kids went to the digital world about two weeks ago," Taichi explained.

"You mean after we got that message from Gennai?"

Taichi nodded, although his eyes remained fixed on Yamato. "Did he say anything to you?"

"No," Yamato replied with a heavy sigh. He struggled to retrieve his apartment key from his pocket, and when he tried to insert it into the lock, he winced in pain.

"I got it," Sora murmured, taking the key from him and slipping it into the lock easily. It clicked when she turned it, and she didn't hesitate to open the door for her friend. He muttered a quiet thank you, and she followed Yamato in. Taichi shut the door behind them.

"I'm... he may have told me something," Yamato said eventually, turning to face them. "I don't know, though. I remember talking to Mom about it, but... I don't remember what it is. That's the frustrating part. And..."

He paused, shifting on his crutches. Sora placed a hand on his back. "You should sit down."

Yamato shook his head. "You should have seen his face when I woke up. I... I don't know why, but he looked so afraid. Lost, almost. And... damn it, I can't remember _why._ "

"Sora's right. Sit down, and we'll talk about it," Taichi prompted, sounding uncharacteristically solemn. "We promised your dad that you'd rest."

"Taichi, you don't—"

"You _promised_ ," Tsunomon interrupted, frowning at the blond.

Yamato looked absolutely torn for several heartbeats, but he sighed eventually and allowed Taichi and Sora to guide him to his bedroom. Sora did her best to help her friend become comfortable and placed Tsunomon onto the mattress, and she couldn't help but feel as though the story she was about to hear from her friends was one that would soon cause more trouble.

She didn't like that feeling.

* * *

Hikari sifted through the freezer in search of a cold pack to ease the swelling on her friend's face. "Are you sure you have one in here?"

"Somewhere," Takeru answered vaguely, which wasn't much help. "It doesn't really matter. I'll be ok."

"Your mother told me to put ice on your face while she was out. Do you have any frozen peas or something?" She dug deeper, not bothered by the cold, and let out a triumphant cry when she spotted what she was looking for. "There it is."

She walked over to where Takeru was seated on a stool by the kitchen counter. Patamon—who would normally sit atop his head—was perched on his lap, but he pushed himself into the air once Hikari neared the two of them. Tailmon was curled up on the counter despite Natsuko's request to stay off of it.

Hikari scrunched her nose in annoyance when Takeru moved away from her, and she sighed. "I can't help you if you don't hold still."

"I'm sorry," he said instantly, wincing. "It just... that hurt more than it should have."

She frowned at him. "I think you should have been looked at, too."

"It would have been a waste of time. There's nothing wrong with me."

"That bruise says otherwise," Tailmon argued.

"It's really swollen, Takeru," Patamon added.

"If it makes you feel better, they checked my vitals. The nurse said everything looked ok." Takeru winced again when Hikari gently pressed the icepack on his cheek a second time and tried once more to scoot out of her reach. Hikari, however, was not going to let him off so easily, and rested a hand on his shoulder, forcing Takeru to face her.

"Stop moving," she ordered.

"It's cold."

"Of course it's cold, dummy. It's _ice._ "

He rolled his eyes at her in a familiar way that made her smile. His lips twitched as well but he didn't fully return the gesture, and it was then that she noticed that his lips weren't the shade they were supposed to be. Not quite blue, but almost there.

Her smile faltered. Gently, she abandoned his shoulder in favor of his hand, which was resting on the kitchen counter, and was relieved when he didn't pull away. "We can go find a blanket if you're really _that_ cold."

"No, that's ok," he assured, but the goosebumps on his arms and the quiver of his lips told her the opposite.

"Stay put," Tailmon said suddenly and leaped off of the kitchen counter before either of them could speak. Patamon promptly followed her, and the two digimon disappeared into Takeru's bedroom without another word.

Takeru followed them with his eyes, looking confused. Hikari took this as an opportunity to place the ice on his bruise again because Patamon had been right—it was swelling, and this was the only way she knew how to slow it down. This time, though, he didn't flinch; instead, he simply stared at his bedroom door.

"I think Nii-san is mad at me," Takeru whispered suddenly, breaking the silence without looking at her.

Hikari blinked. "Why do you think that?"

"You saw the look on his face when I told him I was coming back here instead of with him and Dad. He was upset."

"He's _worried,_ " she corrected. "Aren't you? He _did_ sprain his ankle."

"Of course I am. It's just..." He stopped, biting his lip.

She studied him. Couldn't ignore the rings under his eyes, or the paleness of his skin. Hikari felt her heart fall into her stomach, wondering why he looked so troubled. Uncertain. Haunted.

She tightened her grip on his hand. "Hey, are you ok?"

"What? Oh, yeah. Sorry," he said quietly. But he still wouldn't look at her, and that made her insides churn uneasily. Made her frown again.

Before she could say anything, there was a soft thud. Tailmon entered the room again on all fours, carrying a blanket in her mouth. Well, more like she was dragging it—it was probably six times her size, at least.

Still, it was cute. Poor Patamon was struggling to keep up and almost tripped over the end of the blanket when the kitten digimon came to a halt.

"Was that really necessary?" Takeru asked flatly when Hikari set the ice pack on the counter and knelt down to take the blanket from her partner.

"Absolutely," Hikari told him. "Aren't you the one that's cold?"

"I'll be alright," he assured, but Hikari was already securing it around his shoulders. After a moment, he seemed to learn that there was no use arguing; instead, he just rolled his eyes, and Hikari huffed in mock anger.

"Would you just let me help you?"

"I'm _fine_ ," Takeru said, sounding a little exasperated. "I appreciate it, Hika, but... it's not as bad as it looks, honest. I'm more worried about Nii-san."

She paused as he said the words, mulling them over. His exhausted appearance screamed that he wasn't fine, that he was tired and needed more than a few hours of sleep.

She bit her lip, picking up the ice pack again and gently pressing it below his eye. "How did you guys get hurt?"

"I told you, it was the storm—"

"That's not what I meant," she interrupted. "Did you... did you see anything out of the ordinary before that? Or after it stopped?"

Takeru was quiet for a long, long time. So long that it didn't seem he _would_ answer, and she instantly wondered if there was something that he was hiding from her. If there was something that he didn't want to share.

Her mind filled with images from over two weeks ago. They appeared out of nowhere, reminded her of the worry she held for him that never truly faded since that day in the forest.

_Wait a minute._

"Why did you call yesterday?"

He started abruptly, looking at her in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

She frowned and proceeded to fish her phone out of her back pocket. He raised his brows, but she didn't care as she scrolled through her recent calls.

"There," she said after a moment, finding his name at the top and pointing to it. The call had been placed yesterday at 6:23 p.m. "You called, but I wasn't in the room. I tried to call you back, but it went to voicemail."

His eyes widened suddenly and once again he didn't answer right away. He stared at her screen wordlessly but didn't seem to know what to say, and Hikari felt her stomach twist again.

When he remained silent, Patamon flew into the space between the two teens and looked Takeru dead in the eye. "Do you want me to tell her?"

Takeru shook his head slowly, and Hikari tilted her head. "Tell me what?"

"Nothing," he said instantly. Coldly. He stood abruptly with so much force that it almost knocked the stool over, and as the fleece blanket slipped off his shoulders, he said, "You should go, Hikari."

She blinked, taken aback. "What? Why?"

" _Because,_ " he said, sudden anger slipping into his voice. "I don't know, I just..."

He stopped again. There was a long, long pause as he took a deep breath, and it was quick and shaky. She could see his shoulders move as he inhaled, and felt her eyes widen when he exhaled. Inhaled. Exhaled. One more time, and before she knew it, he was hyperventilating.

"Takeru..." Patamon started, but he didn't seem to know what to say.

"Because I want to be alone," he whispered quietly after several moments of silence. "I... I need to be alone, ok?"

"Why would you want that?" Tailmon asked, her voice soft. "Nobody really likes to be alone, Takeru."

The kitten digimon neared him but he still kept his back turned, eyes skillfully avoiding them. Hikari took a step forward and then stopped, unable to find the words. Her heart was suddenly pounding in her chest, and she didn't know why or how to make it stop.

"It was my fault," he admitted tearfully, fingers curling into fists at his sides. "It was my fault Nii-san got hurt. They were after _me._ "

Hikari felt her heart start to break into pieces. His voice... he sounded so afraid. And she wanted to know why. Needed to know how to soothe away her best friend's fears.

"Who... who are _they?_ " Tailmon inquired.

He didn't answer; instead, she heard a sniffle. Saw his shoulders trembling once again.

Then. Then instinct kicked in. Without really telling her legs to do so, Hikari walked toward him. Extended a hand and placed it on his shoulder, forcing him to face her. She didn't hesitate to wrap her arms around him.

Immediately, he turned into a statue: breath hitching, body stiffening, webbed eyes widening. Like he hadn't been expecting it. Hikari tightened her grip anyway, pressing her cheek against his chest.

"I... I don't know why you're hiding from me," she said, feeling her eyes grow hot and wet with tears. "I don't know what happened. You don't have to tell me, but I am here for you, Takeru. I always will be, no matter what."

She felt rather than saw him take another cleansing breath, and slowly, _slowly,_ his body relaxed. She felt his hands slide around her waist, carefully. Hesitantly. As though he would break if he moved too fast. But he leaned into the embrace, his whole body shivering, and she couldn't tell if it was just because he was cold.

"I'm scared, Hika," he murmured, so quietly that the words almost didn't reach her ears.

"It's ok to be afraid," she assured instantly because it was true, and she desperately wanted him to understand that.

Tailmon pressed herself against Takeru's leg the way a cat would to its owner. "You're never alone."

"Never," Patamon repeated, perching himself on his shoulder.

_So please,_ Hikari thought, squeezing her eyes shut to once again block the pressure of tears; _don't push us away._


	8. Slowly Smoldering

"I won't starve myself of the dark. Listen to me scream and shout but do not say a word." — The War Against Ourselves, Joel Faviere

* * *

**Ch 08 || Slowly Smoldering**

Takeru dipped his fingers into the froth produced by water and soap, hands working hard to clean the dishes in the sink but his mind wandering elsewhere. There was a strange, uncomfortable pressure building somewhere behind his forehead, spreading, stretching to the back of his skull. He supposed listening to music wasn't helping, but he didn't like the quiet.

Because the quiet would lead to thinking, and thinking meant he'd ask himself questions that he knew he couldn't answer. So he focused on the words that his favorite band was singing, humming along occasionally. It was an easy distraction, as was cleaning.

It had been almost a week and a half since Yamato had sprained his ankle. Since the windstorm. Since he'd seen those children. The bruise under Takeru's eye had faded mostly, and Yamato's ankle was healing decidedly well. He was currently at his brother's apartment, helping clean up supper even though Yamato had told him not to worry about it.

But he was worried. More than worried, in all honesty. He was here not only to make sure that how Yamato's ankle was healing but also because he was keeping an eye on his brother. He didn't dare tell him that, though. Kept his mouth shut.

Perhaps he was being paranoid. But knowing that Yamato had been targeted and hurt, he couldn't help but feel on edge. Every little movement set him off; made his skin crawl; triggered a nerve that told him that he should be on alert at all times.

His fingers paused in their chore, and he released the glass plate he'd been scrubbing, allowing it to slip back into a sink full of soapy water. His eyes weaved to where his brother was sitting in a chair in the living room, eyes trained on the television. Takeru couldn't tell what he was watching because his music was blocking out all sound, but he looked comfortable. Gabumon was seated on the floor next to Yamato's uninjured leg, and Patamon lay, eyes closed, in his older brother's lap.

Usually, Patamon would follow Takeru around the apartment or help him with the dishes. But Takeru had instructed his partner to stay with Yamato, and Patamon was following his wishes. Their presence washed away at the uneasiness that gnawed at his stomach; let him know that Yamato couldn't be harmed under their watch. Again.

Takeru drew in a deep breath and let it out through his nose, knowing that Yamato wasn't made of glass. He knew that his brother could take care of himself, and had even proved it multiple times. But a tiny voice in Takeru's head wouldn't let go of the thought that if he wasn't careful, then Yamato _would_ be hurt again. That he'd end up in the hospital, connected to all of those machines, pain etched across his face...

_"Next time, he won't wake up."_

He screwed his eyes shut, doing his best to block out that thought. Locked it in a chest in the back of his mind. Searched for another dish to clean, scrubbing it hard. Rinsing it off, once. Twice. Practically threw it into the dish rack so it could dry. Moved to the next one. And the next. And the next.

He didn't know that he was being loud. Couldn't tell because of his music. But suddenly his headphones were gone, and he whirled around, gasping when he saw that Yamato was right behind him.

"You're going to break something if you keep slamming the plates together," Yamato said suddenly before leaning against the counter opposite of Takeru. He'd pulled Takeru's headphones off so quickly that the cord was ripped from the headphone jack on his phone, and Takeru was suddenly aware that Yamato had turned the television off, and Gabumon and Patamon had followed him into the kitchen.

It took him a moment to realize that Yamato wasn't using his crutches. His eyes slid to the front room, where they were propped up against the chair his brother had been sitting in moments ago.

"It doesn't hurt as much as it did this morning," Yamato admitted when Takeru continued to stare. He smiled a little as if to emphasize his point, but it was weighed down as Takeru's worried expression didn't fade. "What's wrong?"

"You startled me is all," Takeru told him, which wasn't technically a lie. Yamato had surprised him. Was his music really _that_ loud? He hadn't even noticed that Yamato had stood up, let alone that he'd made his way to the kitchen.

"You should be sitting down."

"You sound like Dad."

Takeru frowned. "You'd be telling me the same thing if I were in your position."

Yamato rolled his eyes, setting Takeru's headphones on the counter. Takeru's frown didn't disappear as he looked at them and then back at his brother, biting his lip. "I was almost done," he decided to say when Yamato didn't speak.

"You don't have to wash anymore," Yamato said, frowning as well. "You've done enough."

He walked—well, limped—toward the sink, leaning on it for support. Takeru didn't miss the way he put more weight on his good leg. Or the sharp inhale that escaped his lips when he put his hands in the water, only to pull them away a second later.

"Takeru, that's _really hot,_ " Yamato cried out, hissing as he stumbled. Takeru reached out to steady him out of instinct, but his brother swatted his hands away, before stopping to inspect them. "Your skin is red."

Takeru glanced down at them, realizing that his brother was telling the truth. His hands had been submerged in the sink for a long time, but he hadn't even noticed how hot the water had been. Didn't even care.

So he shrugged. "It's supposed to be hot."

"Not _that_ hot," Yamato countered, right as Takeru felt Patamon's weight settle on his head. There was a pause as Takeru met his partner's confused gaze, and he was suddenly reminded of the ache in his head that was steadily becoming worse.

He didn't like knowing that it would turn nasty at any moment. Knew that it was caused by lack of sleep. But he didn't know how to find a remedy.

Chewing his lip, Takeru slid past his sibling and dipped his hands into the sink once again—ignoring Yamato when he sighed in exasperation—and pulled the drain. Now that he was aware of the temperature of the water, he realized that it did burn, but for some reason, it was a pleasant sort of burn. Comforting, almost. Pulled the pain away from his head and to his fingers instead.

The sink gurgled as the drain swallowed bouts of soapy water and Takeru flicked froth off of his fingers, reaching for a small dish towel that hung loosely above the stove. There were still a few dishes that needed to be scrubbed, but he ignored them in favor of the concerned look on Yamato's face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Your eyes are red, too," Yamato said softly. "Are you alright?"

_"I can't help you if you don't talk to me, Keru."_

Why was it so damn hard to get that day out of his head? Why couldn't he just let it go, and be thankful that Yamato was alright? A strange, unsettling feeling bubbled in his chest; permeated his lungs. Flowed through his bloodstream. Made him want to stick his hands back into the water.

Takeru's mind catapulted back to his conversation with Hikari when he and his mother returned to their apartment after Yamato was released from the hospital. Her words echoed over and over again in the front of his brain. He could still feel the warmth of her arms as she wrapped them around him, leaning into him. Could still feel the sting in his chest that had stemmed from a glimpse of her tears.

_"It's ok to be afraid."_

_But I don't want anyone else to get hurt._

"I'm fine, Nii-san."

Yamato narrowed his eyes as soon the words tumbled from his lips, and Takeru wanted to look away, to escape his suspicious gaze. But that would only mean that his brother would win, and he didn't feel like telling his story all over again. Couldn't stand the fact that despite what it looked like, Yamato knew somewhere deep inside that he wasn't fine, but the reason why was harbored beneath some sort of barrier that had been constructed by someone who wished to cause pain and misery.

"I just have a headache," he admitted quietly because at least that part wasn't a lie. Yamato's eyes softened a tiny bit, and Takeru released a low breath through his nose. Whispered, "Can I have some aspirin?"

"Of course," Yamato said instantly, making a move to retrieve it.

Takeru reached out to stop him. "I'll get it. I know where it's at."

Yamato hesitated, still looking concerned. But Takeru told him, "Go sit back down," before he could answer, and headed toward the bathroom. His ears tracked each stroke of Patamon's wings as his partner followed him. He could feel the digimon's eyes on him.

Takeru pretended not to notice. Slipped through the bathroom door, flipped the light switch on. Patamon came in right as he clicked the door shut, and Takeru's first instinct was to open the mirror cabinet, eyes sweeping through its contents. Half-empty tubes of toothpaste, hair gel, and over-the-counter pill containers littered the small shelves. Takeru didn't hesitate to grab one.

"Takeru?"

"What is it, Patamon?"

Patamon didn't answer at first, as if reluctant to reply. Then he said, "Are you ok?"

"Yeah. Just a headache, buddy."

As the words rolled off of his tongue, he unscrewed the cap; poured a few into his hand. He popped them into his mouth, swallowed them dry despite knowing that it wasn't healthy, and wondered how long it would be until it would start to kick in.

_Not soon enough,_ he thought bitterly as he made his way back to the front room, slipping the pill bottle into his pocket. Yamato was sitting in his chair again, his leg propped up but not as high as it should have been. The television was still off. He must have been bored since he was cooped up in the apartment for over a week, and had resorted to reading the newspaper that had been sitting on the stand next to his chair.

"You look like Dad," Takeru noted without thinking, his voice startling the other. Yamato turned his head and raised his brows, which only backed up Takeru's statement. Takeru could see their father sitting in that same chair, except both of his legs would be positioned on the footrest. He'd be clicking through the channels, drinking black coffee. It wasn't a picture Takeru thought of often since he did not see his father as much as Yamato did, but it came to his mind all the same.

He blinked, and Yamato was sitting there again, still looking at Takeru quizzically.

"You think so?"

"Yeah," Takeru said, smiling just a tiny bit. "When does Dad get off, anyway?"

Yamato sighed. "I'm not sure. I'd liked to say around eight, but he missed a few days last week because of what happened so he's probably going to get some extra hours tonight to make up for that."

Takeru's smile faded instantly. It was around six-thirty now. A new wave of guilt and fear, stronger than the last, washed over him, and it didn't fade even when Patamon's familiar weight rested on his shoulder, his eyes telling him that it was ok.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Yamato assured. "Why would it be?"

Because the windstorm hadn't happened until after he spilled everything out to Yamato. Because he was with Yamato when he'd gotten hurt. Because Yamato didn't remember. Because of the horrifying note left on the mirror.

His head throbbed as he thought about it, and once again he had a hard time meeting his brother's gaze. So he took in another deep breath swallowed hard. "Are you feeling ok?"

It was stupid to ask since he already knew the answer. Knew that he'd asked earlier, probably enough times to annoy Yamato. But he felt compelled to ask again—he needed some reassurance.

"I'm alright," Yamato said slowly. "Are you feeling ok? You look tired."

"Maybe that's why your head hurts," Gabumon suggested suddenly. "You are rather pale, Takeru. Perhaps you should rest."

Not expecting the question to be turned around like that, Takeru paused. Shrugged. His headache wasn't getting any better. "I'm alright," he echoed.

"You should take a nap," Patamon told him sternly.

The idea wasn't unappealing, but for some reason, he hesitated. Thought about what sleep brought him, what waking up felt like. Maybe he wouldn't have a problem falling asleep, but what about _staying_ asleep? Would he have another nightmare? He didn't want to find out.

"They're right, Teek." Yamato's voice pulled him away from that thought, making him look at his brother confusedly. "Sit down for a little bit. You've been on your feet for a while."

"Hypocrite," he muttered without realizing it, frowning. He felt angry suddenly, and he wasn't sure why. Frustration slipped into his skin; made him clench his teeth. Even if it was a good idea, sleeping wouldn't solve anything. It wouldn't heal Yamato's injuries. Wouldn't make his brother remember. Wouldn't erase this fear that encased him every time he thought about the events that transpired over the last few weeks. Wouldn't make him feel any less jittery.

Yamato blinked. "What?"

"If you won't listen to me, then why should I listen to you?" Takeru snapped, annoyed. " _You're_ the one who needs—"

_Get mad, Takeru. Go ahead. Be angry._

The words flitted through his mind so quickly that he almost yelped in surprise. Instead, he stiffened. Felt his eyes pop, his breath stopping in his throat. It was just like that day in the forest when he'd heard that little girl's giggle but Ken had not. His head jerked around, but panicked eyes could only see an empty kitchen and hallway.

"What?" Yamato repeated, more urgently this time.

His heart fluttered in his chest uncomfortably. He listened closely, but his ears could only hear the _thump thump thump_ of his pulse. Could only hear the hum of the air conditioner.

_Someone's here,_ was what his mind said, but there was no way that he could tell Yamato that. Was it the children? Or at least one of them? Were they here to hurt his brother again?

"Nothing," he said monotonously. "I'm...I'm sorry. I think I just need some air, Nii-san. I'll be back."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No," he said sharply, causing both of the digimon and Yamato to jump. His eyes widened slightly again, realizing he'd shouted once more. Yamato's eyes were bigger than normal, too. Were filled with confusion. Pain. Uncertainty.

"No, that's ok," Takeru repeated softly, but the words weren't enough to atone the fact that he'd snapped at his brother for no reason at all. "I'll only be gone for a few minutes."

Yamato nodded slowly. He appeared ready to speak but stopped, looking as if he wasn't sure what to say. Finally, he murmured, "Ok. We'll be here."

Takeru didn't reply. He headed toward the glass door that led to the small balcony and slipped through it. Patamon didn't follow him, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was thankful that his partner stayed inside. He needed a few moments to himself so he could sort out this chaotic, horrible storm of thoughts.

It was hot and bright outside, and it took him a moment to realize how cold it had been inside compared to the outdoors. Summer had definitely made its mark on the weather but he didn't mind. Enjoyed the wave of heat that covered him, chasing away the unwanted chills that shimmered down his spine.

But it didn't stop him from wondering what the hell was going on with his brain.

He leaned against the rail surrounding the balcony, putting all of his weight on it as he buried his head in his hands. Took a deep breath, slowly. Let it out. Then tried again.

"I'm ok," he whispered, ignoring the sense of déjà vu that he felt as the words slipped from his lips. If he could convince himself of it, then surely he could convince Gabumon, his brother, and his partner of it? That didn't just happen, his mind rationalized. He'd just imagined it.

He wasn't _that_ insane. He was just exhausted, physically and mentally. Right? Right.

Wrong.

* * *

Saya grinned menacingly as she stared across the street at a young blond boy she was ordered to keep an eye on. She was on the balcony opposite of him, watching with delight as his face twisted with fear and unease. Oh, how easy it was to scare him. She'd just sent a little thought into his mind, just as her brother told her. She knew now why he wasn't the bearer of Courage.

Why did her master believe that this one would be hard to crack? It was easy enough, it seemed. She and her brother hadn't been here all that long, and the boy was already falling apart. Three weeks, maybe four—she didn't know. Time was hardly a concern to her.

Her smile faltered slightly when the blond buried his face in his hands as if that would do anything. She tilted her head curiously and peered closer, wanting to know exactly what it was that was going through that brain of his.

"Shh, don't be scared," she said, but her words went unheard to the world around her. "No one is going to hurt you, dear Hope."

She paused, looking up at the afternoon sky. Pinkish red, yellow, orange, blue. She supposed it looked beautiful: an array of several different colors. Although if her brother caught her thinking that, he would scoff. Would tell her that all beauty had died a long time ago.

That wasn't true, she thought. She believed Takeru was beautiful. His skin could be a little bit more colorful... maybe like the dusking sky, a canvas of red and blue. She wouldn't change his eyes, however. They were perfect. Reminded her of her mother's. And Takeru definitely wasn't dead.

But all beautiful things die eventually.


	9. Whispers

"I used to be afraid of cluttered noises. Now I'm afraid of silence." — In the Dark, Flyleaf

* * *

**Ch 09 || Whispers**

Mimi drummed her fingers against her leg, eyes trained on what was beyond her window as the taxi driver sped down the road that led to Sora's apartment. The car was moving so fast that her surroundings blurred, but she wasn't going to complain. Was too eager to find out what she'd missed in the past few weeks.

Having been in America since the start of summer vacation, Mimi knew she had some catching up to do. That included Sora, who was sitting the car seat next to her, behind the taxi driver. And definitely Palmon, as soon as she could get to the digital world. And everyone else, of course.

_Speaking of._

She spared a glance in her companion's direction, but her gaze wasn't returned. Sora's eyes were focused on her lap, where her hands lay, curled into fists. A stiff Pyocomon was resting atop her hands, staring glassily at the back of the driver's seat—the perfect imitation of a doll. They both were frowning, which made Mimi raise her brows.

Sora wasn't someone who frowned like that, and neither was her digimon partner—even if Pyocomon was merely acting. So Mimi couldn't be the only one to think that the sadness and doubt etched across their faces didn't fit them.

She'd also been incredibly quiet almost the entire ride—which wasn't uncommon, knowing Sora. But she had no idea why, and she also wasn't sure what Pyocomon was doing in the human world.

"Don't look so down," she decided to say, startling the both of them. She wasn't going to bring up the digimon, not with the driver present. But still... "It's summer vacation. Aren't you happy you don't have to wake up at dawn and exams to worry about?"

Sora looked at her. For a small moment, her friend hesitated. Didn't speak at all. Then a soft, gentle smile played her lips and she looked down at her digimon partner. "Sure, Mimi." After another pause, she admitted softly, "Although if we were in school, it would be the least of my worries."

"What do you mean?"

The smile on Sora's face faltered but then steadied itself. "It's just been a long few weeks."

Mimi remained quiet, waiting for a further explanation. Waiting for her to give a reason why. But when Sora didn't say anything, she felt her heart squeeze uncomfortably. "Why?"

"How was America?" the redhead asked suddenly, which made Mimi blink.

Her brows furrowed again. "Oh, no you don't. No changing the subject. You should know from experience that that doesn't work on me."

"I'm serious," Sora insisted. "How was your trip? America is very different from Japan. You had to have enjoyed things that you don't get to do here."

"True. I did learn how to drive a little," Mimi said thoughtfully, putting a finger to her chin. But then she realized that Sora was doing the very thing she'd told her not to do just a moment ago, and she started to pout a little. " _Sora._ "

The taxi driver made a right turn then, slowly making his way into the parking lot of Sora's apartment complex. Mimi looked out her window as she heard the signal of the blinker, and, having not been to her friend's house in the past few weeks, felt a ripple of excitement in her stomach.

"Tell me when we get to your room," she said, making a face that meant she wouldn't take no for an answer.

Sora looked troubled for a few moments—it was an expression that once again did not fit her. But she lifted Pyocomon's still body and nodded anyway, avoiding the other's gaze for the second time. "Alright, alright. Thank you," she added as the taxi driver shifted into park.

Mimi didn't hesitate to pull out her purse, pawing through it to find the necessary amount of money that she owed the man for driving the two of them to their destination.

"Can I help you with anything else, ladies?" the driver asked, and Mimi politely shook her head, resting her hand on the door handle.

"We can get it from here. Thank you."

The driver nodded and smiled respectfully. Mimi let herself out and waited for Sora to do the same, grabbing her suitcase as the redhead stepped out of the vehicle. As the two girls made their way inside the building, Pyocomon whispered, "It's been a while since I've had to be quiet for that long."

Sora chuckled. "I'm sorry, Pyocomon. I didn't think it would take that long."

"It's ok. At least now I can say welcome back to Mimi." Pyocomon smiled happily, and for a moment Mimi saw Tanemon looking back at her instead of Pyocomon. She couldn't help but frown, feeling her heart drop in her chest. Which reminded her...

"Are all of the digimon visiting?" she asked, a small bit of hope tinging her voice.

Instantly, Pyocomon's happy expression twisted. She and Sora shared a look that didn't make Mimi feel any better. She suddenly felt left out and instantly knew that there was something that they needed to get to a private place to discuss.

"C'mon," she said before either of them had a chance to speak. "Let's get upstairs."

She grabbed Sora's wrist and tugged without giving her any warning, dragging her suitcase along with her. Bystanders gave them strange looks, sure. But it wasn't like she cared.

"Mimi—" Sora started, but Mimi just pulled harder.

"I told you to tell me when we got to your room, didn't I?"

They climbed up the stairs with remarkable speed—with Sora struggling to keep a surprised Pyocomon in her arms, and Mimi too motivated to slow down—before they reached the door which led to the inside of Sora's apartment.

Sora drew in a few deep breaths as if to recover from the sudden run before she reached inside her pocket for her key. Mimi released the retractable handle on her suitcase, careful not to break it as she slid it back into its compartment.

They slipped inside as Sora twisted the doorknob and pushed the door open, glancing around when she saw that all of the lights were off. "Mom must be out."

Mimi slid off her shoes, looking around as well. The place was quiet—which was usual, she supposed. Sora and her mother weren't loud people. Then she watched as Sora allowed Pyocomon to leap out of the floor, eyes sweeping the apartment as she landed.

"She's usually not gone at this time of day," the pink digimon said.

"She probably went out for groceries or something," Sora told her. She faced Mimi, smiling gently. "Are you hungry?"

It was obvious now that Sora was dodging Mimi's curiosity. Mimi chewed the inside of her lip, her eyes staring deeply into the other girl's. Sora's smile once again faltered, which made Mimi even more suspicious.

"I had something before you came over," she answered finally, leaning against the wall. "No more avoiding my questions, Sora. Did... did something happen while I was gone?"

Sora set her keys on the table with a sigh. "Have you checked your d-terminal lately?"

Mimi blinked. "No, I... I didn't even think to pack it."

"Do you have it now?"

She shook her head. "Why?"

"Gennai sent out a message a few weeks ago," Sora answered. "He said there's been some suspicious activity in the digital world. He hasn't sent out any messages since then, but..."

Her stomach twisted. "What?"

Sora simply looked at her with eyes too sad and wise to belong to a seventeen-year-old girl. Mimi felt her knees go a little weak, goosebumps prickling her skin. All traces of excitement vanished and was replaced with anxiety.

Pursing her lips, Sora made her way to her kitchen, opening the fridge. She reached inside, and when she shut the door, Mimi saw two juice packets in her hands.

"Here," Sora murmured, handing one to her. Mimi spared a quick glance at it, recognizing the flavor as one of her favorites. Before she could even open her mouth to say thank you, Sora's phone buzzed.

Immediately, the redhead pulled the device out of her pocket. She flipped it open, eyes skimming over what Mimi thought was the message she received before her expression shifted from stressed to horrified.

"What is it?"

She placed the phone in Mimi's free hand, saying, "I guess you're about to find out."

Confused, Mimi glanced down at her friend's phone, which was lit up with a text from Yamato that read: _Can you come to Taichi's for a little bit? I heard that Mimi is back. We need you both._

Mimi bit her lip and typed a reply saying that they would be there as soon as they could and steadied her purse on her shoulder once again. "Let's go."

* * *

Nearly thirty minutes later, Mimi and Sora walked through Taichi's apartment door. Taichi closed it as they entered, and Mimi glanced around. Instantly noticed the absence of the three people that made up Taichi's immediate family. "Where are Hikari and your parents?"

"Hikari's at Miyako's," he said. "Mom's out and Dad's at work." Then, after a pause: "Welcome back."

He smiled, but it wasn't a Taichi kind of smile. Didn't threaten to break into laughter the way it usually did. His lips tilted upward but he didn't show any teeth. Inwardly, Mimi raised her brows, but on the outside, she returned the gesture.

"Thank you. It's good to be back."

Taichi's smile remained the same. Mimi embraced him shortly, squeezing gently when she noticed he was a little tense. He released her quickly, and Mimi wasn't surprised when Sora's smile mirrored his. Sad. Soft.

"Did you enjoy your trip?" Koushiro asked from somewhere across the apartment, which made Mimi look in his direction. She was surprised to see that Jou was here as well, and wondered what was so important that Taichi and Yamato had requested all of them to come over.

It came to her attention that the last time they'd been all together in the same place had been months ago, way before school had ended for summer break. It wasn't because they weren't a team anymore but because all of them weren't free at the same time.

Judging by everyone's faces, Mimi had the impression that this wasn't going to be a fun reunion.

"It was nice," she replied eventually but wasn't really in the mood to repeat herself. Sure, she knew that Koushiro was simply curious. But she'd had this conversation already, and didn't like playing the broken record at a party. Didn't come here for small talk. "What did I miss?"

Taichi drew in a low breath. "You'll find out. Follow me."

He didn't hesitate to head to the room that she knew he shared with his younger sister. His tone was so abrupt and blunt that it confused her even though it was what she was expecting; but she followed just as instructed, unable to ignore the unsettling feeling gnawing at her stomach. Taichi's voice only got like that when he was worried about something.

It was weird. Strange. Unnerving. She didn't remember the last time she felt like this—it felt as though it had been years, and it definitely wasn't a feeling she missed.

The first thing she noticed when she entered Taichi and Hikari's bedroom was the amount of digimon in it. Tentomon, Gomamon, Agumon, and Gabumon were here; and with the addition of Pyocomon, that made five. She raised her brows and frowned, feeling left out as she thought about Palmon. The lack of her digimon partner's presence made her heart ache faintly, and she opened her mouth to ask why their partners were in the human world but froze when her gaze landed on Yamato.

"Oh, Yamato," she said instantly, her eyes widening. Some sort of distressed noise escaped her lips as she brought her hand to her mouth. "What happened to your leg?"

Yamato winced as her voice rose. He shifted in the desk chair he was sitting in, looking slightly uncomfortable. "Hi, Mimi... It's nice to see you."

Yamato's face was paler than usual. He looked a little tired, and his ankle was in one of those boots that doctors prescribed when it was sprained. It was propped up on a small stool and Gabumon was sitting almost protectively close to him.

She frowned, not exactly ignoring the way he cringed but not paying any special attention to it, either. Repeated, "What happened? I mean, did you fall? Did someone push you? What—"

"Mimi," Jou interrupted, resting his hand on her shoulder. "Let them explain."

Koushiro made his way to Taichi's bed, pulling his laptop out when he sat down on it. "I assume you didn't bring your d-terminal to America," he said when Mimi jumped in to protest. "What information did Sora share with you before you two headed this way?"

Mimi shared a look with the girl in question before Sora leaned over to set Pyocomon on the floor gently. "I said that Gennai sent a warning to us," Sora answered for her, looking back up at Koushiro. "Then Yamato messaged me, and, well. I figured she should hear it from all of us."

What was _it?_ Mimi's frown deepened, and it wasn't because of the way Sora had dodged all of her questions earlier. She suddenly felt like she was gone for longer than just a few weeks.

"Gennai did send out a message to all of us," Koushiro confirmed, staring at his computer screen. "He felt a disturbance in the digital world. At first, it didn't seem like much of a problem. Gennai has only warned us once, meaning it most likely hasn't happened again." He paused as Mimi looked at him, and then added, "Would you like to see what he wrote?"

She nodded numbly. Wasn't sure which of them pulled it up. Someone's d-terminal was placed delicately in her hands, and the words on the screen made her heart momentarily thunder in her chest:

_I've sensed a disturbance in the area. It was brief, but I'm sure it wasn't my imagination. Keep an eye out, both in the digital world and your world. I will contact you if there is a second occurrence. Please let me know if you find anything that may have caused it._

_Gennai_

The date the message was received was almost a month ago. Mimi's eyes widened a second time, filling with horror and confusion. She skimmed it over once again, having a hard time convincing herself that the message was actually there. But... but it undoubtedly _was_ real, and guilt prick at her insides as she thought about how she _hadn't_ been there, how she hadn't gotten it because she was out of the country. How she'd let her team down.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered, looking at Koushiro with pleading eyes.

For once, it seemed Koushiro didn't have an answer. He opened his mouth, but the longer she stared at him, the longer he was silent. So she looked at Taichi. Sora. Yamato. Jou.

None of them spoke. But she caught the way Jou looked away, his face uncharacteristically ashen.

"Did you know?" she asked him, her tone soft. Quiet. She captured his gaze for a brief moment, but it was long enough to see the way he shifted uncomfortably and the way he bit his lip nervously.

"I misplaced my d-terminal as well," Jou admitted timidly after a pause. "I found it a few days after the message was sent and contacted Koushiro. Then I decided to take his advice to keep Gomamon close. But since Gennai hasn't emailed us for a while... I figured it was a fluke, you know? I've been busy with college applications, you know, so I've just been focusing on that. But then Yamato got hurt, and..."

He stopped there. Mimi's eyes weaved over to Yamato, who was staring at the floor indifferently. When it seemed he wouldn't make eye contact, she looked at their digimon partners again.

Hurt swelled within her. Alongside that emotion came sadness and guilt, and she felt tears well up under her eyelashes. "I'm sorry."

"Hey," Sora said gently, resting a hand on the base of her shoulder blades. "None of this is your fault, Mimi."

"Don't apologize," Pyocomon added suddenly.

"That's not the _point,_ " Mimi told them, wiping at her eyes. "You guys needed me a part of this team, and I wasn't there. I haven't been here at all. And I... I didn't even _know._ "

"You mustn't blame yourself," Gabumon said after several silent heartbeats.

Gomamon nodded sadly in agreement. "Someone should have told you."

"I should have asked," she murmured. "I didn't keep in contact with _any_ of you."

"How do you think I feel?" Yamato snapped suddenly, capturing the attention of all of those who were present. "I haven't been able to do anything for the past few weeks. I got Gennai's email. We all did. But the only people who bothered to look into it were Taichi and Koushiro. The younger kids... they haven't said anything to us at all. And Takeru—"

He stopped abruptly. It was like someone had hit his inner mute button. His face contorted with pain and anguish, and he buried his head in his hands, hissing softly in obvious discomfort.

"What's wrong?" Gabumon asked instantly. "Does your ankle hurt?"

He didn't answer right away. Mimi heard him inhale slowly and waited for him to reply. Instead, he just exhaled, shaking his head, his whole body completely rigid.

"What happened to you, Yamato?" Mimi repeated for the third time, studying him closely. A mixture of curiosity and worry bubbled in her stomach, and she desperately needed answers. Needed to know why Yamato was in a boot; why their digimon were still here and Palmon wasn't; why they had kept this information from her.

"Did you remember something?" Taichi asked when Yamato still didn't respond, rushing toward him. Yamato flinched as soon as Taichi's outstretched fingertips made contact with his skin, which made Taichi recoil immediately. "...Yamato?"

"Sorry," Yamato said softly. "My head just... it hurts." He exhaled slowly, and once again, his breathing was shaky. "I'm alright, Taichi."

"Are you sure?" Agumon asked, tilting his head to the side.

Yamato nodded his head before looking up at Mimi. "I don't know what happened to me, Mimi. I know that doesn't answer your question, but it's the truth. All I remember was being with Takeru, and..."

"What happened to Takeru?" she asked, feeling as though her heart was sinking further and further into his stomach.

There was a long, long silence. Yamato hesitated, rubbing his temple. "I don't know," he repeated finally in a whisper.

Mimi waited. The next time the blond spoke, his voice was low. Quiet. She listened intently as he filled her in on what had happened in the last few weeks. Koushiro and Taichi added in what they knew, and so did Sora. They told her that the younger kids had gone to the lake in the digital world, about Takeru and Hikari's strange behavior after they returned, about how the rest of the younger chosen seemed oddly oblivious, and about how they still weren't sure if it was safe for the digimon to return home.

Jou kept silent most of the time, only speaking when Gennai's email was brought up. Yamato told Mimi that he'd planned on visiting Takeru one day. Said that he'd spoken to his mother about something, but couldn't remember what. Then the brothers had gone out for lunch.

"The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital," Yamato finished slowly, cradling his head in his left hand. "Takeru told me that I'd hit my head, but..."

"But what?" Mimi prompted anxiously, brows furrowed with worry.

"That's the thing. He's been acting so... so _weird._ It... something's eating at him, I know it. He's hiding it, and... and when I asked him about it, he just smiled and said that there was nothing wrong. He fucking _smiled._ He knows he doesn't have to hide from me—I know he does. So why..." He paused, and for a moment, he looked completely defeated. Like he'd already given up. "I just want to know why he thinks he has to lie."

Another long pause followed his words. Mimi's stomach churned and twisted, making her feel ill. There was so much information to take in and not enough time to let it settle. Worry blossomed somewhere inside her and skyrocketed, filling each thought. It made her think, made her wonder, triggered a burning curiosity that she knew only arose when the situation was heading down a road that didn't have an end.

Takeru was like a younger brother to her. He was a part of their team. And he wasn't telling Yamato something. Wasn't telling anyone anything. But it was obvious to them that something was wrong. And Hikari...

"What about Hikari?"

Taichi looked up at the sound of his sister's name, and Mimi met his gaze evenly, frowning. "You guys said Hikari was acting strangely, too. And... and what about Ken, Daisuke, Miyako, and Iori? Takeru is close to them, you know. He could be talking to them. You seriously think they don't know anything?"

"It's not that," Koushiro said. "Taichi sent them a message regarding their trip to the digital world and Hikari's well-being."

"They told me nothing happened," Taichi continued for him, sighing heavily.

Koushiro nodded. "They may have been telling the truth. However..."

Koushiro never finished that sentence. Above them, the lights blinked on and off. Repeatedly. Everyone looked up, and eleven pairs of eyes were locked on them. Seconds later, Koushiro gasped.

"My computer is malfunctioning," he cried, eyes wide.

The Chosen and their partners didn't hesitate to gather around him. Mimi felt her eyes pop as she stared at his screen, which was glitching. After several moments, the contents on the computer expert's screen turned to static.

Outside the bedroom, there was a very loud thud. Then glass shattering. Mimi stiffened when she heard a cat hissing vehemently.

"I'll... I'll be back," Taichi said slowly, standing up straight. Carefully, he made his way out of the bedroom, his steps hesitant and unsure.

Jou shot up from his place next to Koushiro. "I'll go with you."

Followed by Gomamon and Agumon, he exited the room in a similar manner that Taichi had. Some sort of fear brewed instantly in Mimi's gut, and it only intensified when Taichi scolded, "Damn it! Miko, look what you did!"

Mimi stood, not even realizing that she had been sitting down. Koushiro was still occupied with his screen when she headed to the front room where the two boys were, unaware that Sora was trailing behind her.

"What happened?" Sora asked, watching as Jou and Taichi worked together to pick up the bookshelf that had fallen to the floor, bringing with it a glass vase and several books and movies.

"I think Miko was playing around and knocked the shelf over by accident," Taichi answered. "That cat can be a handful sometimes—hey, don't come over here just yet. There are shards everywhere."

"They're really small; you can hardly see some of them," Gomamon added.

Mimi and Sora halted instantly. Could only stare as their friends picked up novel after novel and DVD after DVD. Taichi sighed in exasperation, glaring at the house pet that seemingly was the culprit of the mess.

"Could one of you grab the broom?" Taichi asked. "It's in the kitchen—"

Miko hissed again, more violently this time. But this time the cat's gaze was locked on the shadows of the hallway, growling at what didn't seem to be anything at all.

"Guys," Koushiro called out frantically, sounding uncharacteristically panicked. "Guys, come quickly."

"Something is wrong with Yamato," Gabumon shouted.

The six of them shared a look that bled fear. Carefully avoiding the broken glass, Taichi made his way across the living room, followed by Jou and their partners. Mimi and Sora went after them, and once again the sight of Yamato made Mimi feel violently sick.

Still sitting in Taichi and Hikari's desk chair, Yamato was doubled over, head once again buried in his hands. He was groaning, as if in pain, and didn't respond to any of Gabumon, Tentomon, Pyocomon, or Koushiro's pleas.

"Yamato, can you hear me?" Gabumon was saying, gripping his leg tightly. "Look at me. What's wrong?"

"Answer us," Tentomon begged.

The lights flickered again. Miko was standing in Taichi's doorway, back arched, seething venomously. Mimi looked at the spewing cat, heart pounding painfully in her chest; and then back at Yamato, who remained unresponsive even when Taichi grabbed his hands and pulled them away from his face.

Then Mimi saw it.

Yamato's eyes weren't blue. They were entirely white. No pupils. No irises. Just plain white.

The world went entirely mute as she stared, horrified, at his grey face. She couldn't hear the yells of her friends anymore. Couldn't hear Miko at all. Could barely feel the floor beneath her. Especially when Yamato's terrifying gaze landed on hers.

Cold, cold terror rushed through every part of her. Her eyes were already bulging but she could feel them getting bigger. Could feel herself shaking.

His lips moved, but at first, no sound came out. She blinked once. Twice, trying to figure out what it was that he was saying.

Then, in a low, disembodied whisper: "You can't save him."

Someone shook her shoulder; snapped her out of it. The sound of skin hitting skin rang out in the room and Mimi put a hand gingerly to her cheek, only to find that she wasn't the one who had been slapped.

In an effort to gain Yamato's attention, Taichi had struck Yamato across the face. It seemed to have worked because Yamato blinked several times, and with each blink, the color slowly returned to his face. To his eyes.

"Are you alright?" Jou asked Mimi, at the same time that Taichi said, "I'm sorry, Yamato... are you ok?"

They were both quiet for a long, long time. Yamato appeared confused, screwing his eyes shut for a few seconds before re-opening them, narrowing them as if to focus on Taichi's face.

"Fine," she and the blond said in perfect unison, right before Yamato rubbed his cheek.

"Though I could be better if you didn't hit me," he muttered.

"He didn't have a choice," Gabumon said, ruby eyes filled to the brim with concern. "What happened to you? You wouldn't respond."

"What do you mean?"

"You seriously don't know what you did?" Taichi asked, sounding a little scared. "You were... it was like you had a seizure or something."

"Wh-what?" Yamato stuttered, looking at his partner and his best friend in shock. Then he hissed in pain. " _Fuck_... my head."

"Did... do you remember anything?" Sora asked, a tinge of hope in her voice.

Yamato paused and once again winced. "I... I'm not sure."

Jou put a hand to Yamato's forehead as if to check him for a fever. "You're not feverish... but that definitely was not normal. Koushiro, do you think we should talk to Gennai? Or the other Chosen? We have a problem on our hands, and it seems like they know something we don't."

Koushiro, looking pale as could he be, swallowed thickly and took a few steps back. "Give Yamato some space to recover," he advised everyone. "I'll contact Gennai... in the meantime, Mimi, I think that you should find Palmon and keep her with you at all times. Alright?"

She nodded robotically, but her eyes never left Yamato's face. Didn't like the powerful wave of fear and uncertainty that shimmered down her spine.

"Are you sure we shouldn't, like, take him to the hospital or something?" Taichi asked Koushiro, who studied Yamato carefully. But Mimi didn't listen to whatever it was that Koushiro said in response or the argument that was building between them. Wouldn't. Couldn't.

There was definitely something wrong. Something huge. And Takeru and Hikari were involved, which meant that the other kids had to be as well. She didn't know how she'd speak to them, or what to say. She had a feeling that they'd need more than just their partners to protect them.

Thought to herself: _Welcome home._


	10. When the Shadows Start to Sing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a warning: from here on out, the tags for **self-harm, attempted suicide, and suicidal thoughts** will come into effect. please be safe!

"Your eyes are swallowing me. Mirrors start to whisper; shadows start to sing. My skin's smothering me; help me find a way to breathe." — Sleepwalking, Bring Me the Horizon

* * *

**Ch 10 || When the Shadows Start to Sing**

Impassive eyes stared at a glowing orb, locked on a group of humans, all screaming like pathetic little children who had slipped and fallen on a slab of pavement. Looking closely, the owner of the eyes noticed that the whites of a certain blond's—the Child of Friendship—eyes were entirely visible. No pupils. No irises. And none of the other humans could see since his head was tilted.

The corners of his lips twitched when he saw a flicker of his servant's soul underneath the boy's skin. It was exciting for him to know that his servant had been able to slip into him so easily.

"Your brother is doing well, I see," he told the small brunette child sitting next to him, whose gaze was locked on the sphere as well. "Although you should tell him that he can't stay in the boy for long. He'll get trapped."

"Sakauchi knows, Master," Saya replied, eyes not leaving the scene unfolding before them. "I already told him so, Master," she added when he looked at her in confusion. "I said no more than sixty heartbeats."

"Very well, my dear. You two are becoming more and more careful every day."

"Thank you, Master."

Ten or so heartbeats slowly passed. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen.

"Oh, look. How frightened those other humans are. Your brother is doing _very_ well."

Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty.

"He will be pleased to know you think so, Master," Saya said quietly.

Twenty-six. Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight.

The boy whom he recognized as the keeper of Courage was holding Friendship's shoulders, shaking him. Still, Friendship did not respond verbally. Convulsed like a fish out of water, groaning in agony.

Thirty-eight. Thirty-nine. Forty.

The chosen of Responsibility took Courage's hands and said something about giving him space. Courage refused to listen, shouting words that seemed too foul to leave such young lips.

Forty-nine. Fifty. Fifty-one.

Sincerity looked horrified, and he breathed that in for everything it was worth. Felt it soak into his body, pump into his heart.

Fifty-four. Fifty-five.

He could see Saya stiffening out of the corner of his eye.

Fifty-eight. Fifty-nine.

"You can't save him."

Everything stilled instantly inside the sphere. His gaze didn't leave his orb as he felt the air contorting, twisting. Moments later, Sakauchi's voice said, "It is done, Master."

"Wonderful," he praised without looking at him, smiling widely.

Sakauchi's footsteps echoed in the silence. It was so quiet that he could hear the young male's hand slipping into Saya's, and he finally looked at his two servants, pleased with their work.

"You know what to do now, young one," he told Saya.

Saya squeezed her brother's hand and looked at him emotionlessly.

"Yes, Master," she replied, bowing slightly. Her soul blinked out of existence, and he was beginning to believe that these were servants whom he would keep once his plan was complete.

* * *

Takeru's eyes opened blearily, and he was uncertain of what it was that woke him up. After a few blinks, he disentangled himself from his blankets, idly wondering when he had fallen into their embrace in the first place. He didn't remember dreaming—a blessing, he thought—so it couldn't have been a nightmare. Couldn't have been Patamon, since the little guy was snoozing contently, curled up against his abdomen.

Couldn't have been his mother, because when he reached out to grab his phone, the clock read 7:09 p.m. She wasn't scheduled to get off until midnight.

Couldn't have been someone at the door, because he lay completely still for one whole minute before he decided no one was there.

After a few moments, he realized that he'd fallen asleep with his music playing. Groggily, he searched for the device that his headphones were plugged into and when sleepy hands found it, he clicked the 'pause' button. Didn't bother moving his headphones from around his neck.

He exhaled slowly but quietly, leaning his head back onto his pillow and debated whether or not he should pull his blanket back over him. Closed his eyes. Breathed in once again, deeply. Silently. His head hurt and for once, he wished that he could just sink back into the waters of sleep. It had been so nice while it lasted... surely it wouldn't be hard to find that sort of peace a second time?

_Thud._

Takeru stilled instantly. Felt his blood run cold, breath hitching in his throat. What the _hell_ was that? His fingers fisted into his pillow, so hard that his knuckles turned white—the usual response when he heard noises like that.

Maybe his mother really was home. Sometimes she got off early, his brain rationalized. But she wasn't that loud of a person when she returned from her shifts, usually because she didn't want to disturb their neighbors. He sat up soundlessly, uncertain. Slipped his phone into his pocket. Slid his legs over the side of his bed.

Once again he waited. No usual sounds that signaled his mother's return followed. Just eerie silence. The only pause in the quiet was Takeru's heartbeat, which was steadily picking up the pace; and his soft breathing.

The flat was quiet for a long, long time. The longer he stared at the door, the more insane he felt. His insides twisted with unease, a feeling which he knew was his instinct to check it out. Another part of him told him to stay put.

Takeru jumped when his partner asked sleepily, "Takeru, what are you staring at?"

"I... I thought I heard something," he murmured honestly, eyes not leaving the door.

He heard the rustle of wings behind him as Patamon took to the air. He was quiet for a few moments, probably taking some time to wake himself up. Then he seemed to listen for himself, asking, "Do you want to go see?"

No. Yes. Maybe. He still couldn't decide. Swallowed the lump forming rapidly in his throat, knowing how many times he had checked in the past. How many times he'd looked over his shoulder. How many times he'd studied his friends and brother, and didn't find anything that he considered suspicious.

_Maybe you imagined it,_ his mind said, and he wasn't sure if he should listen to it or not. He'd "imagined" a lot of things lately. The line between illusion and reality was beginning to blur, and he was starting to wonder if he was the only one who thought so.

"Sure," he said anyway, taking a deep breath. Takeru finally found the courage to grasp the doorknob, feeling Patamon settle atop his head. He was thankful for his partner's presence, inhaling the digimon's strength as though it was air and wishing he could make it his own.

_One more time can't hurt. Remember? It's_ always _nothing. Don't be scared._

"Takeru?" Patamon prompted anxiously when his hand trembled slightly on the knob.

Just open the door and get this over with.

He did. Nervously. Decided to step through the doorway before he could get any more pathetic. Looked around, slowly. Cautiously. Peered into the dining room, and then the kitchen, and then the front room. It was cold: an unsettling kind of cold.

Everything was in its proper place. It was quiet. Calm. Peaceful. Not a sound could be heard, and Takeru wasn't sure if that was supposed to comfort him or not.

He was used to the silence, sure. But there were several things that his ears picked up on after a few minutes or so in the quiet. Like the ticking of the clock hanging above the television in the front room. Or the low hum of his mother's computer when she left it on before going to work. Or the steady buzz of the air conditioner.

Now, there was nothing except his quickening breathing and the snare drum pounding his ears. Just like when he'd "heard something" at Yamato's yesterday.

"I don't see or hear anything," Patamon whispered, echoing his thoughts in a more rational tone.

Takeru nodded slowly. Of course. "Ok."

He made a move to turn around then. To return to his bedroom and fall into the welcoming, open arms of his blankets. To pass out again, hoping desperately for a dreamless sleep.

But then something snapped. Fell to the ground with another loud, obnoxious thud, and this time Takeru was absolutely certain that the noise had not stemmed from his overactive imagination.

He whirled around so fast that it almost sent Patamon tumbling to the floor. And his eyes widened in horror.

A picture frame that had previously been hanging on the wall above the front door was now laying face down on the living room floor.

"Patamon," he choked out.

"Yeah?" the small digimon whispered in reply.

"Let's go back to my room, ok?"

"Ok."

Heart still trying to escape his chest, Takeru turned around again. Fearfully. Quaking. Told himself that it was a loose screw, that it was a fluke. Tried his hardest to believe that his excuse was true.

His steps were shaky as he headed back to his bedroom, and he could not ignore the panic brewing in his chest. It flowed through his veins alongside his blood; wrapped itself around arteries, capillaries, and bone. There was no smothering it.

It was second nature, this panic. Came more often than not. Sometimes for reasons like this. Sometimes for no reason at all. It made it hard to breathe, made his fingers tremble uncontrollably, made him incredibly dizzy. He wasn't sure which he feared more—the panic that would soon turn nauseating or the silence that seemingly echoed around him as though to taunt him.

No. He was going to go back to sleep. He was going to curl up on his bed and breathe. Relax. _Relax._ As in he wouldn't think about anything. He'd listen to music, let it drown out everything around him—including the panic that told his lungs to tighten up. Would not let his heart break through the confines of his ribcage. Not today, he told the panic. Not now.

Except the moment he stepped back into his room, the door slammed. Loudly. Violently, with such force that it shook the hinges. Takeru gasped in unison with his digimon partner, and they both turned around, eyes popping when they heard it lock.

Immediately, Takeru jostled the knob, which was inexplicably warm to the touch. He turned the lock and tried again, but it wouldn't budge. Like someone was standing right in front of the door, making sure they couldn't get out.

"Why won't it open?" his partner asked, fear lacing his voice.

"I... I don't know," he said in an equally shaky voice. "It's... it's like someone blocked us in."

"It's useless, Takeru."

He didn't recognize the voice, didn't know who said it. But the words were whispered so close to his ear that he jumped, legs wanting to move. To run. To get away from the voice. But cold fingers clamped down on his mouth, and another on his shoulder, holding him in place. The scream that bubbled up in his throat was trapped just behind his lips.

Patamon cried out in pain, a sound that put a dent in Takeru's racing heart. The little guy disappeared from his line of vision, and Takeru wasn't sure where he went. Frozen, he could only whimper when a muffled thud sounded behind him.

More hands grasped at him. Pulled at him. Forced him to turn around, and his horrified eyes met cloudy white ones.

"Shh... don't struggle. Saya sent me. You remember her, don't you?" the being murmured, cracked lips tilting in a crooked, menacing smile.

Saya? Who the hell was Saya? He whimpered again, shaking uncontrollably. His frantic gaze shifted from her sickly pale face to the orange bundle of fur that lay motionless on the floor.

"Patamon," he tried to scream, but again the name was muffled and didn't even come out the way he wanted it to. It was a mix of syllables that didn't make sense, sounding more like _patmn._

"Hey, now. He's ok. Just sleeping," the woman assured, but her voice was far from comforting. Neither was the cold hand rubbing his arm or the one against his lips. "I couldn't get to you with him in the way, now could I?" she added when he continued to stare at his unconscious partner in terror.

Her thin, ghostly-white hand left his shoulder as she leaned in close. Closer. Touched his nose with her own. Her skin was cold, so cold that it burned. Like ice. Sheets upon sheets of thick, unbreakable ice.

"What's the matter? Never been this close to a girl before?" she asked tauntingly, stringy black hair swaying to the side as she tilted her head. Her cloudy eyes stared, unseeing, into his, and he couldn't look away. Not even as her thumb brushed teasingly against his lower lip. So he did the only thing his desperate mind could come up with.

He bit her finger. Hard.

She cried out in surprise and pulled away instantly, looking at him in disgust. "You piece of _shit!_ "

As she shouted, the lights flickered on and off above him. Takeru choked out a sob and backed into his door, body quaking against it. There was an awful taste in his mouth that made him want to vomit. Her face twisted with hatred, but it wasn't her expression that made Takeru's stomach twist in turn with fear.

Bruises. Blood. Scars. Her pale body was a portrait of crimson, purple, and blue. They were everywhere: her face, her arms, her legs. The one around her neck, almost like a ring, stuck out the most, stretching from one side to the other. Her clothes were tattered and stained, just like the little girl from the forest. But this woman was taller, thinner, and radiated with rage. The more Takeru stared at her, the more inhuman she looked.

Inhuman. Of course she couldn't be human. Couldn't be a digimon, either. She... she looked _dead._

"Who... who are you?" he asked quiveringly, his voice barely above a whisper. Still pressed against the door, he could only wait for an answer. One that she didn't give; only glowered at him, which drew a violent shiver from him, and he looked desperately at his partner who still lay unmoving on the floor.

"Don't think about it," she hissed vehemently, stepping closer to him. "You make a single _move_ and I'll break your neck."

Tears of horror pricked at his eyes, barely having time to form before they traveled down his cheeks in small, salty waves. She neared him again, her head tilting to the side so far that it seemed it would snap.

He screwed his eyes shut, unable to look. It was sickening, those eyes. Almost as horrifying as the pairs of soulless ones that belonged to the little boy and girl. He could already feel bile rising in his throat, and he wasn't sure if he could keep it from spilling onto the floor.

"Open your eyes, boy," the woman instructed, and when she grasped his chin once again it felt like someone had placed an icepack on his skin. "Look at me. You see these bruises?"

Without even glancing at her, he nodded, but it wasn't enough. When she screamed at him, her voice echoed, so loud that it left his ears ringing: "I said _look at me, you damn pest._ "

More tears trailed down his cheeks as she pried his eyes open seemingly with her voice. Once again he drew in the horrible, discolored mess on her skin: the angry markings on her neck, the ones that looked strangely like handprints on her shoulders, and the huge dark circle claiming her right eye. He was terrified when he caught the dark crimson slices on her left wrist, caked with dry blood.

There were so many of them. Jagged. Deep. Faded. Fresh. Vertical. Horizontal. All the way up to her elbow. Her right wrist mirrored the other almost exactly.

"You wanna know how I got these?"

No. Oh, hell no, he didn't. Didn't want to keep looking. But his eyes were trapped on her body, and he couldn't even find the strength to pry them away from her. He mutely shook his head, and she laughed, a sound that sent shivers all the way down to his bones.

"I killed myself," she answered and smiled as though it was something to gloat about. "My boyfriend said he'd do it with me, you see. Even helped me tie the noose. Told me which veins to cut. 'You'll bleed out faster if you go straight up this time, Miyuki,' he said. But I cut, cut, and cut; it wasn't new to me, after all. Cutting was something I've done before. So I stood on the chair and slipped my head through, waiting for him to do the same."

She closed the distance between them, once again letting their noses connect. Takeru almost gagged when he smelled her foul breath. "He didn't. Just tightened it, kicked the chair, and walked away."

He shivered as the words traveled through the tiny space between them. Goosebumps covered his arms as he shook silently, wondering why this insane lady was telling him this. Why this insane dead lady was telling him this.

"You look kind of like him," she whispered softly. "He wasn't fully Japanese. You're not either, right? Saya told me so. He had the same hair. Same height. Same skin color... but his eyes weren't blue. They were kind of green, now that I remember. He was also a little bit older, you see. Sixteen and a half, I think."

His legs folded. Couldn't keep him upright anymore. As he slid down the door, she followed him, keeping her eyes on his face the entire time.

"It'd be so easy for me to do to you what I wish I could have done to him."

_She's going to kill me,_ he realized in absolute horror.

"Fortunately for you," she began in a tone that was calmer than before, but didn't dare break her gaze from his; "I've been instructed not to kill you... so I guess that's not an option. But she didn't say I couldn't kill anyone else..."

_Patamon, please,_ please _wake up,_ he prayed desperately, fingers curling deeper and deeper into his palms. More tears poured out, and he couldn't hold back a sob. He wished he could at least look in his partner's direction; could at least glance at him, if only for a little bit. He hoped with every part in him that his partner would open his eyes, would look up and see them.

_Please..._

Somewhere across the room, there was a blinding light. Takeru cried out when the woman—Miyuki—did, only her voice's pitch was noticeably higher than his. It echoed, once again sounding inhuman. Terrifying. And suddenly her cold fingers were gone, and so was her breath, and her voice, and the icy chill that she'd brought with her.

He didn't dare open his eyes. Not for a while. He didn't know if it took seconds or minutes for him to curl up into a ball, eyes sealed shut, so horrified that he could barely think. Some sort of noise escaped his lips, and he would have classified it as a sob if he could. But it was strangely choked, too high-pitched; and when it left his throat so did the vomit that he'd kept in for so long.

He coughed and coughed, gagging until he was dry heaving on the floor. Patamon still lay asleep, but there wasn't any way for Takeru to reach him. His body was frozen.

If he weren't so afraid, he would have been ashamed. Disgusted with himself, even. But when the contents of his stomach—or lack thereof—came up, when it spilled all over his clothes and the wooden floor, the only thing on his mind was the panic that encased him.

_"Do you see us now, Takeru?"_

Two small children, smiling innocently.

_"She said go. As in_ run."

Two small children, chasing him.

_"You're too late, Hope. They're dead."_

Two small children, placing his friends and brother in a bloody row, one after another, side by side.

_"Next time, he won't wake up."_

Two small children, putting his older brother in the hospital.

"Get mad, Takeru. Go ahead. Be angry."

Two small children, haunting him.

_"I killed myself."_

Two small children, sending that woman after him.

_"She didn't say I couldn't kill anyone else."_

It was frightening. Overwhelming. Maddening. He couldn't take it. Couldn't breathe, couldn't even move so he could clean himself off. So he just shook, trying his best to block it out. Trying to find rational explanations. Trying to shut off voices, emotions, memories.

Trying to not feel at all.

"Hey, kid."

He didn't move his head on his own. Once again icy fingers brought his chin and impassive brown eyes returned his watery, afraid gaze. The boy to whom those eyes belonged took his hand and coaxed his fingers to uncurl. Something cold landed in his palm, and out of shock, he looked down at it.

The metal box cutter glistened slightly in a sliver of light that filtered through his blinds as the sun began to set.

"It worked for Miyuki, Takeru."

Time stood still as he stared at it, his tears drying on his cheeks. A quick image of Miyuki's scarred wrists flashed through his mind's eye. Then he thought back to yesterday—the scorching-hot water from the sink. The pleasant burning sensation. And every part of him burned with curiosity. His skin. His body. His mind.

"It'll make them go away," the boy's voice whispered, but when Takeru looked up, he was gone.

So was his rationality. The voice that told Takeru to stop disappeared completely, and he placed the box cutter to the stretch of flesh that protected his vital veins. The tip traced those veins and he hesitated. Brought it a little further up. Up. Up. Just below his forearm, pressing until the tip pierced through his skin.

When he applied more pressure, he felt his throat loosen. Felt the panic ebb. Felt warmth bubble on his skin, hushing the demons that screamed inside of him. Felt everything shut off, and maybe that was why he didn't stop after the first cut. He sliced and sliced, fueled with desperation and the desire to be numb.

For a little while, there was nothing. No emotions. No children. No voices.

Just him and friend he wished he'd met a long time ago.


	11. Darkest Corners

"Night falls with gravity. The Earth turns from sanity, taking my only friend I know. He leaves a lot. His name is Hope." — Semi-Automatic, twenty one pilots

* * *

**Ch 11 || Darkest Corners**

"...keru. Takeru, please open your eyes. Takeru! _Air shot!_ "

A puff of air accompanied Patamon's plea, and Takeru was startled out of his slumber as soon as his partner's attack hit him. He blinked several times, sleep-webbed eyes attempting to focus on the orange blur floating in front of him.

"P...Pata," he croaked, rubbing his face with heavy hands. His head felt like someone had tightened a vice around it. "M'awake, Pata."

"Thank goodness," the small digimon gushed in relief, his eyes watery and brimmed with concern. "You wouldn't respond for a few minutes... I was worried you weren't going to wake up."

Taking a few moments to adjust to wakefulness, Takeru glanced around. It was dark. Probably not even dawn yet. He was sitting in front of the door, knees pulled up to his chest. There was a foul smell in the air that made him scrunch up his nose, and when he looked back at his partner, he felt his throat close up.

A small cut marked the area just above Patamon's right eye. It was thin and could've easily been overlooked, but the instant Takeru's eyes landed on it, he was overcome with memories from last night:

Waking up to an unsettling, crushing feeling that something was wrong. Wondering why his apartment seemed so eerie and cold. Leaving his bedroom with Patamon to investigate, only to end up with no answers. Then.

Then Miyuki. Miyuki locking him in his own room, knocking Patamon out. Not letting him escape. Her cold touch. Her breath ghosting on his skin. Her cloudy eyes and twisted, blue-lipped smile. Her bruises. Her scars.

The light that made her leave. The panic that was so powerful that made his stomach churn and twist until whatever was in it came up. The little boy with brown eyes, extending a hand...

_"It worked for Miyuki."_

_Oh my god,_ he thought in horror. His eyes instantly locked onto his arms, and panic gripped him. Hard. _I... I can't believe I..._

He did. The proof was there: a sharp rend in pale skin; a violent pulse of dark crimson. None of the cuts were deep enough, obviously, for medical attention. But they were definitely noticeable, and the first thing he wanted to do was cover it up.

This was his shame. His pain. His fear. Emotions which he wished would leave his mind, so badly that he had carved an exit for each of them. He couldn't let anyone see what desperation had driven him to.

_Nobody will know._

"Takeru," Patamon said suddenly, sounding terrified, "is that blood?"

_Not even Patamon._

"I must've slipped, bud. It's fine. I'll clean it up."

The lie rolled so smoothly off his tongue that he had a hard time believing that it was his own voice saying those words. And he'd moved so quickly away from Patamon's worried eyes that he didn't even pay attention to how sore his back was from sitting up all night. Had stood up so fast that his mind didn't have time to catch up with his body.

Before he knew it, he was across the room, stripping his t-shirt. Was in his closet, reaching for another. But frantic fingers hesitated, and once again he was reminded that he'd puked last night, and hadn't cleaned it up. The stench was still there. He was surprised Patamon hadn't said anything, or maybe he just hadn't noticed.

_I am so gross. I am so pathetic._

Out loud: "I'm going to take a shower, ok, Patamon?"

"Takeru, wait."

He did. "What?"

Patamon fluttered toward him slowly, a frown on his face. "What happened last night?"

"Nothing ha—"

"Please don't lie to me, too," the digimon pleaded abruptly, cutting him off. "Those children came, didn't they? Did they hurt you? Is that why you were asleep on the floor and not your bed? Please, _please_ tell me the truth, Takeru." His eyes became watery. "I can't stand that I can't protect you from this."

Damn it. Of course Patamon would see right through him. Takeru suddenly felt incredibly guilty, and the onset of tears stung his eyes. His bottom lip quivered as his resolve broke just a little.

Part of him wanted to listen and blurt out everything. From the moment Patamon had been knocked unconscious to when Takeru had fallen asleep. Maybe that was what he needed—an open ear. But it hadn't worked out so well when he'd confessed to Yamato.

He bit his lip anxiously. That was the last thing he wanted to think about right now. Who knew what would happen to Patamon if he said the wrong thing? If he let a small bit of information that he was supposed to keep to himself slip?

"I... I don't want to talk about it," he decided to say, not meeting the other's gaze. "Not right now."

Patamon flew into his arms, and automatic instinct was for Takeru to squeeze him as tightly as he could. He placed a paw on his chest. "I'm listening whenever you're ready."

Taking a deep breath, Takeru could only nod. Couldn't stand if someone else got hurt because of him. "I'm... I'm going to take a shower now."

Patamon said something in response, but Takeru released him; made his way to the door. He needed a towel to clean up the mess he'd made on the floor. It was early enough, surely, for his mother to still be in bed. He was proven right when he slipped out of his room unnoticed, and he tried to be as quiet as possible. He didn't want to wake her. Didn't want her to see him like this.

It only took a few minutes of scrubbing and disinfecting until he was satisfied, and a few spurts of air freshener cleared the stench. He started a small load of laundry to dispel the foul odor in his clothes as well. Patamon didn't say a word, even when he left to shower.

The steam helped, he supposed. The hot water traced the path of his skin smoothly, soothingly; made his stiff body loosen up a little. But it didn't erase what he'd done to his arm. Didn't give any truth to the lies that he had told. Didn't make the guilt in his chest fade.

_Never again,_ he promised himself, as he stared his mistakes right in the face. _I won't do it again._

"Takeru?" Patamon's voice sounded quietly through the door when he was drying off. He raised a brow, not liking his partner's tone.

"What is it?"

"You have a message on your d-terminal. I think it's important."

_Oh, no._ He hesitated, biting his lip. "Who's it from?"

"Koushiro," Patamon answered softly.

Why would Koushiro send him a message? Curiosity bubbled in his mind alongside anxiety, and he resumed in his task of getting dressed. He pulled on his underwear, followed by a pair of jeans. Made sure that the shirt he pulled on next had long sleeves.

"I'm coming," he told his friend, before opening the door to reveal a very distressed Patamon.

His partner's expression was enough to make his anxiety skyrocket. He frowned instantly, shutting the door once more when Patamon entered the bathroom. Took the device from the digimon's outstretched paws. The subject bar was enough to make his heart fall into his stomach.

One new message from Koushiro. Received 5:48 a.m.

Subject: EMERGENCY. PLEASE READ.

_Less than twelve hours ago, something terrifying happened to one of our teammates. Given the severity of the situation, I will not reveal the details in this message. It would be best to tell everyone in person._

_Think back to when Gennai sent his warning. I have reason to believe that what he said is happening again, and there truly is an imbalance in the digital world. Whatever that is has spread to Earth. This should be nothing new, as it has happened before. However, that doesn't make it any less dangerous, and I am even more concerned because we haven't seen any distortions or evil digimon appearing around the city—or at least not to my knowledge—which is usually the first indication that there is a threat in our world._

_This is my point: Everyone receiving this message, please respond as soon as possible. We need to schedule a meeting, and I would like to have it today. I know that I have no right to tell anyone to cancel plans, and I know that it's early, but this is urgent. PLEASE DO NOT IGNORE THIS MESSAGE. We cannot waste any more time._

_I've sent a similar message to Gennai to keep him up to date on things. I'm expecting a reply soon to see what he has to say about the matter._

_Respectfully,_

_Izumi Koushiro._

" _Damn_ it," he said, trying to keep his voice low.

"What?" Patamon asked instantly, still very concerned.

_Ok,_ he thought to himself, taking a deep breath. _Ok... I was alone with Patamon last night. He can't be talking about me. He can't be. Then... then who—?_

"Takeru, what does it say?"

Another deep breath. Nice, slow. Easy. "Koushiro wants to call a meeting. With everyone."

"What happened?"

"I don't know," he answered. "Something... I think something bad happened. I..."

_Miyuki didn't get to anyone else, did she?_

_"She didn't say I couldn't kill anyone else..."_

"Oh god," he whispered, pulling at his hair as if that would make the words that flashed across his mind disappear. _No, no, no, no, no, no... She couldn't have hurt them. She_ couldn't _have._

"Air shot!"

The force of Patamon's attack once again startled him, and he stumbled backward into the wall. He looked at his partner in confusion and shock, and the blue-eyed digimon frowned. "I'm sorry, Takeru... it's just. You were doing it again."

"Doing what?"

"Getting panicky and breathing all funny," Patamon replied. "And when I said your name, you didn't respond. Don't do that, please. It's scaring me."

"Sorry, I—I can't..." _breathe,_ was what he'd wanted to say, because all of a sudden, the room felt too small. Rewind a few weeks, and he pictured himself in another bathroom, at the hospital. He could see Miyuki, bruises and scars on display. It wasn't just Yamato who was hurt this time. He pictured Hikari in a hospital bed, connected to dozens of wires; and each of his friends' faces flicked through his mind: Miyako, Sora, Taichi, Jou, Daisuke, Ken—

_If she hurts someone else..._

"Takeru?!"

_...they won't wake up._

"I'm going to Koushiro's," he told Patamon before drawing in several quiet breaths. He created a new draft on his d-terminal before he could tell himself to do otherwise, and typed up a quick message: _Are you home?_

Ten. Eleven. Twelve. It took twelve seconds to receive a response. _Yes._

_Are you up for company?_

_Of course. What is it?_

Takeru's fingers hovered over his keyboard, hesitant. He wasn't going to tell Koushiro anything. Not... not yet. But he needed to know who was hurt, and even though the Koushiro had told everyone he would speak to them about it in person, he didn't know if he could wait that long. He needed reassurance now.

_I can't tell you. I..._ He stopped and erased that letter, before resuming with: _See you in about an hour?_

_Sure._

Takeru took a deep breath, not knowing what he'd just got himself into. He bit his lip anxiously, looking at his partner with troubled eyes. "Patamon?"

"Yeah?"

"You'd back me up with anything, right?"

"Always," Patamon replied without hesitation.

"Then do me a favor." He paused. Chewed the inside of his cheek. "Don't tell anyone anything while we're at this meeting. I know it's a lot to ask you to lie, but... but I just need you to do this for me. Do you trust me?"

Patamon looked confused but nodded anyway. "Of course I trust you."

"So you'll do it? No matter what?"

His partner looked him directly in the eye. "If... if that's what you want... then ok. I'll do it."

Takeru wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed quietly. Made his way out of the bathroom. When he opened the door, however, he was met by a fatigued Takaishi Natsuko.

"Are you alright, Takeru?" she asked instantly, and even though she looked exhausted, her voice carried a level of concern only a mother could reach.

"I'm fine," was his robotic reply. When she blinked at him, he asked, "Are _you_ alright?"

"Tired," she admitted truthfully, with a small sigh. "Can I ask you something, son?"

Swallowing shakily, he nodded. Felt Patamon climb atop his head. Her gaze shifted to his partner for only a moment before she glanced back at him.

"You know I respect your privacy, right?"

Oh, no. Had she been listening? If so, how much had she heard? Takeru's head spun but he nodded again, trying to forget that his hands were clammy.

"And you know that you can tell me things, right?"

"Mmm-hmm."

She paused. And suddenly, she smiled. Despite the fact that she was tired and had presumably just woke up, it was soft and sincere. Beautiful, even. Takeru felt his heart sink a little.

"I came home around one," she continued suddenly. "Your door was locked."

Oh. _Oh._ Takeru raised his brows, trying to remember if he had locked it. Or... or... was it because he'd blocked it? That hadn't been on purpose. Or had Miyuki...?

He shuddered internally, once again wanting to keep those thoughts in the darkest corners of his mind where they belonged. "I didn't realize, Mom. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, hun," she said quietly. "I know that you probably had your reasons. I... I just want to make sure you're ok."

"I am ok."

"Did you have a nightmare last night?"

He didn't answer right away, mostly because he didn't have an answer. For the second time, he didn't even remember dreaming. He wasn't—

"No bad dreams, Takeru's mom," Patamon answered suddenly, and Takeru could hear the grin in his voice. Whether it was real or not, Takeru couldn't tell, but it seemed to be contagious enough for his mother to smile again.

"Good. Now, where is it you're going?"

"Koushiro's." There was no point lying about that. Her brows shot up as if to ask why, but she never voiced that question. Eventually, he added, "I was going to tell you."

She didn't reply. Simply leaned forward, kissing his head. When she wrapped her arms around him, he couldn't help but fall into the embrace. She was warm. "I love you, Takeru. Be safe."

"...We will," he replied softly. "I love you, too, Mom."

She returned to bed then. Takeru took a deep breath to collect himself, wondering why his eyes stung for the third time that morning. He was brutally reminded how much it hurt to lie.

But he'd be ok. He could do this. Could keep just a few more secrets.

Even if he screamed a little more on the inside.

* * *

Koushiro's apartment was only twenty-five minutes away on foot. By the time he'd made it to the door, Koushiro was already waiting for him. That startled him, admittedly, but the moment Takeru walked into his apartment, that faded. Koushiro's expression was unreadable.

"Morning. You look tired," he said in lieu of a greeting.

"So do you," Takeru argued, crushing the fear that wanted to construct a home in his chest. The exhaustion evident in both of their faces could easily be blamed on the hour. "Morning."

"You arrived quicker than expected."

"Yeah, well," Takeru muttered, fidgeting a little; "I didn't have a lot to do. And, um, about your message..."

"Right." Koushiro nodded and led him to his bedroom without delay, which was appreciated even if getting straight to the point was in Koushiro's personality anyway. "I received a reply from Jou a few minutes ago. He said he could be here with Gomamon by eight. I already assumed that given the season, some would sleep in, and I don't expect a reply from everyone until at least ten or eleven. Of course, earlier than that would be appreciated, but you know Taichi. He's with Yamato, and neither is known for being a morning person. And then there's Daisuke."

He chuckled without meaning to and tried to stifle it as Koushiro sat down in his desk chair. "Is Jou the only one?"

"Aside from you, yes," Koushiro replied. There was a clicking noise. And another. Some taps here and there before Koushiro refreshed his page. Looked at his d-terminal. The routine seemed well-practiced, as though it was the only thing he'd been doing for the past hour or so. It was Koushiro, after all; so it was believable.

"I can't believe that Koushiro-han isn't the only one insane enough to be up and functioning at such an ungodly hour," Tentomon's voice, laced with sleep and irritation, came from the other side of the room.

Takeru turned around, startled, and raised his brows when the beetle digimon became airborne, tiredly making his way toward Koushiro's desk. "Patamon was awake before me, actually," he informed, trying to smile. It was true, even if the two hadn't woken up in the best of ways. "Right, buddy?"

Patamon blinked, and gave a delayed reply: "Oh, right."

Koushiro turned around after a moment, facing the two of them. "My message didn't wake you up, did it?"

"Huh? Oh, no. I, uh. I had just finished taking a shower when Patamon showed it to me."

"Couldn't sleep, then?"

"I suppose not," he responded, careful not to say too much. Koushiro's expression became quizzical as if debating on whether or not he should press further. He must've decided not to—much to Takeru's relief—and he sighed internally, once again trying to find a way to hide the nervousness that seemed to bleed through his skin.

After a few moments of studying Koushiro, Takeru realized that his friend was a tad bit pale, and he knew that he didn't have any room to talk about not getting enough sleep. But it did worry him. "Have you been up all night?"

Koushiro shook his head. "I, ah, woke up around four."

"And he's been typing on his computer ever since," Tentomon droned. "So unhealthy, Koushiro-han. Must I remind you that sleep is needed for a human to function properly?"

"A human can function properly on four or five hours of sleep," Koushiro rebutted. "I agree that it is unhealthy to do so every night, but it is possible."

"Eight or nine hours is the recommended amount."

Unnoticed by the two lost in a small argument was the look Patamon shot Takeru. The blond winced and didn't meet his eyes, and shifted uncomfortably where he stood.

Sleep was important. More than important, honestly. It was scientifically proven that it was crucial for survival. But it wasn't like Takeru was getting the wrong amount on purpose. It wasn't his fault that—

Takeru suddenly remembered why he was here, and he straightened his spine a little. Cleared his throat. "Koushiro."

"Yes?"

"You're really worried that there might be something wrong, aren't you?" He swallowed nervously. "That there might be an imbalance between the two worlds."

"I was wondering when you were going to start talking about that." Koushiro's expression became solemn. He leaned forward, resting his chin on fingers. "I'm positive that there is an imbalance. There is no 'might.' If whatever is wrong isn't corrected within the next few weeks, we're in serious trouble. That's what worries me."

"...how do you know that?" he whispered anxiously.

"Gennai and I have been talking," Koushiro answered. "You remember that disturbance he felt at the beginning of summer break?"

All too well, he thought. His mind catapulted back to when he and the other younger kids traveled to the digital world. The first time he'd saw the two children outside of his dreams. He nodded quietly, trying to keep his calm.

"Yesterday," he continued, "something strange happened to your brother. I emailed Gennai all of the details. He has requested our presence in the digital world..."

Koushiro kept speaking. But Takeru tuned him out; it was like his friend had pressed the button in his mind that muted the rest of the world. Two words stuck out more than any other in his mind: _your brother._

_Something happened to Yamato._

Something happened _to Yamato. Miyuki might have gotten to him. My Onii-san. Not again. Please, not again. He's already been hurt once._

"Is he ok?" Takeru was half-aware that he'd interrupted whatever Koushiro had been saying, but he didn't care. His brother became the first thing on his mind all of a sudden, and he looked at Koushiro with horrified eyes. "He's hurt again, isn't he? Did someone hurt him?"

"Takeru, calm down. I can explain everything when—"

"What _happened_ to my Onii-san?"

Koushiro closed his mouth. He paused as if mulling his next response over, and then stood up. He rested a hand on his shoulder, and it was then that Takeru realized he had started pacing.

"I understand that you are upset," he said and didn't let Takeru protest this time. "Believe me, I do. But you need to stay calm. Yamato is fine now, I promise. Like I said earlier, he is probably asleep. If everything goes well, he can be here in a few hours. Ok?"

Takeru drew in a quiet breath. Getting worked up wasn't going to help protect anyone. "O-ok. I'm sorry. I just—"

"I know." Koushiro paused again before turning around and facing his laptop. He was quiet for a long time before he inquired, "Can I ask you a question?"

"Um, sure."

"Do you know why Yamato's memory has been damaged?"

Takeru sputtered. "Wh-what?"

"When Yamato sprained his ankle, he lost his memories. But you were with him, correct?"

"...correct," he answered hesitantly.

"So, do you know how or why he doesn't remember anything?"

Takeru bit his lip nervously. Koushiro had a burning curiosity that never died, but his thirst for knowledge wasn't as powerful as the children who had hurt Yamato, or Miyuki's threat of inflicting pain on his friends; nor did it speak louder than the voice that told Takeru to keep his mouth shut. He remembered Patamon's promise to keep quiet as well and swallowed thickly.

_It's for their safety. It's to protect them._

"He hit his head pretty hard when he fell," Takeru said eventually. Almost robotically. He inhaled silently and exhaled through his nose. "That's all I can think of."

Koushiro looked ready to respond, but before he could, there was a loud beep. Recognizing it as one of their d-terminal, both teenagers glanced back at Koushiro's desk. Koushiro didn't hesitate to check it.

"Sora can be here within the next hour," Koushiro answered the unspoken question that lingered in the air. "We're getting somewhere, I suppose."

Patamon shifted on his customary place atop Takeru's head. "So what do we do now?"

Koushiro sighed, once again taking a seat in his desk chair. He gestured to his bed so Takeru could sit down. "We wait."


	12. Reverse: Interlude

"I tried to hold these secrets inside me; my mind's like a deadly disease." — Control, Halsey

* * *

**Ch 12 || Reverse: Interlude**

The morning sun slowly climbed its invisible staircase into the sky, shedding its light onto the city as its inhabitants shifted from night to day. It was Saturday, so it was unlikely that many people would be out of bed just yet, Sora figured. Unless you're a Chosen Child who was sent a rather urgent message in the early hours of the morning by a certain computer expert who didn't look nearly as worried as he seemed in his message.

Sora tore her gaze away from Koushiro's bedroom window to the two boys sitting across from her: Koushiro, whose eyes were trained on his laptop and his laptop alone; and Takeru, who quietly sat on Koushiro's bed with Patamon in his arms while seeming lost in his own thoughts.

She frowned in concern. "Please tell me you guys have at least _eaten_ something."

Koushiro either didn't hear her or ignored her. Takeru at least had the decency to glance up, and after a few hesitant moments, he grinned sheepishly. "We've been, um, a little distracted."

That much was obvious—at least for Koushiro. She shot Takeru a look, but it softened when she saw the fatigue that glistened in his eyes. It was clear that Patamon was already half-asleep, and Tentomon was in a similar state from his position atop Koushiro's desk. All four of them looked like they had been up for hours.

"I'm guessing you didn't sleep much, either," she added, her frown deepening. "Takeru, how early did you get here?"

He glanced at the clock resting on the wall above Koushiro's bedroom door, and then fatigued blue eyes met Sora's again. He shrugged quietly. "I don't know. Six-thirtyish, maybe."

"It seemed much earlier than that," Tentomon murmured sleepily. "I'm telling you, these two have some kind of superpower."

"Says the beetle who can grow multiple times his size," Patamon deadpanned before curling deeper into Takeru's arms. "Sora's right. We should eat something. What do you say, Takeru?"

As if hearing the digimon's words, Takeru's stomach voiced its thoughts before he could open his mouth. Sora raised her brows, and even Koushiro turned around to look at him with disapproving eyes.

"Why didn't you say something?" Koushiro asked with a frown that mirrored Sora's. "There is food in the kitchen if you're hungry. We could have made something. That's what it's there for."

Takeru turned a soft shade of pink before his shoulders lifted in another shrug. Sora drew in his pale skin and anxious expression; upon closer inspection, she realized that his clothes were kind of loose. Had that been intentional, or had Takeru lost weight? It had only been about two weeks since the last time she saw him, but for some reason, it seemed longer than that. He looked so much older than his fourteen years.

_No wonder Yamato is so worried._

She pulled a tired Piyomon closer to her, catching the way Takeru fidgeted as she examined him. "I didn't realize," he said finally, and the nervous smile that graced his features did little to soothe the concern that coursed through her.

"You've been eating, right, Takeru? Three times a day. Every day?"

_You're too skinny,_ was the unsaid message that lingered between them. Takeru was too young to be so worried about something as to skip meals, she thought. Even though she half-expected if from Koushiro, she didn't approve of him missing out on breakfast in favor of his computer, either. And to have bags like that under their eyes... She thought back to how worked up Yamato had been over the past few weeks—

"Three times a day. Every day," Takeru answered eventually, his smile more genuine this time; but she quickly caught onto his hesitance to answer her question. It was as though he had to think about it. The teenager in her wanted to scoff, but the mother-instinct that she had developed for her friends over the years made her want to dive deeper for more of an explanation.

"And you, Koushiro?"

"I appreciate your concern, Sora, but rest assured that my eating habits are perfectly normal," he said, smiling a little. "You sound almost exactly like my mother."

"That's Sora for you," Piyomon chimed with a giggle and snuggled into her human partner's warm arms.

She sighed quietly and smiled at the bird digimon. Brushed a few stray feathers away from her eyes. Perhaps there was no reason to be concerned. She did tend to ask a lot of questions. "I just want to know if you're both ok. You're too young to look that exhausted."

Takeru's smile faltered upon hearing those words, and Koushiro blinked in confusion. The two boys shared a look, and Koushiro eventually said, "Would it make you feel better if we made something to eat?"

Her smile widened. "Yes, it would."

Koushiro stood first, gently closing his laptop. He checked his d-terminal for probably the fifth time that minute and then gestured for Takeru to get up. Takeru slowly pushed himself off of Koushiro's bed, taking Patamon with him.

"Yay, something fun to do," Tentomon said happily and hovered across Koushiro's bedroom without further delay. "Thank you, Sora. You're the best."

"I wouldn't say that," she said, although she was touched by the words even if Tentomon had said them simply because he was hungry and bored. They trekked to the kitchen soundlessly, led by Koushiro and his partner. The digital clock on the stove read 7:44 a.m.

Koushiro started listing off their options. Since his mother left to take his father to work and run errands, they didn't have to worry about waking anyone up. When Koushiro opened the fridge, he looked at Sora sheepishly.

"I, ahh, I'm not all that great at preparing meals," he admitted, somewhat timidly.

She peeked in slowly and heard Takeru shuffle behind her. It was decently filled, as though his mother had been shopping recently. But in all honesty, she wasn't much of a cook, either. Wasn't even sure what to make. Both she and Koushiro glanced at Takeru, who raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Nii-san cooks; not me," he said in defense.

The intercom buzzed. All six of them were startled by the sound, and after a pause, Koushiro looked back at the clock to check the time. "That's probably Jou."

It was indeed. There was indistinct small talk for a few moments, and when Koushiro reentered the kitchen, he was followed by Jou, Gomamon, and—not surprisingly—Mimi and Palmon.

"We're saved," Tentomon whispered in awe, so quietly that it almost went unheard, but Patamon and Piyomon giggled in response. Even Takeru cracked a small smile.

"Good morning," Mimi said instantly as she met Sora's amused stare. Her gaze weaved around the kitchen, drinking in the appearances of everyone present; and when she saw Takeru, her eyes widened. "Takeru! It feels like I haven't seen you in forever."

She didn't give him a chance to reply because she enveloped him in a hug, nearly crushing Patamon in the process. Takeru gasped in obvious surprise, but relaxed and slowly returned the embrace. "H-hi, Mimi. Welcome back."

"It's good to be back," she replied airily. "America is great, but Japan will always be my home." She paused to look at his face, and concern flickered in her eyes before she said, "How are you doing? You look like you haven't been sleeping."

So Sora _hadn't_ been imagining it. This time, Takeru's hesitance was obvious. Didn't respond for several long moments. His expression quickly became unreadable, but he wasn't returning her curious gaze; instead, he took a small step back so he was at arm's length. Smiled, barely. "I've been up for a few hours. Hey, Jou and Gomamon."

Jou returned his smile, which was equally tired, but definitely genuine. "Morning, Takeru. So you beat us here, huh?"

"He and Patamon arrived before we did," Piyomon answered for him as she perched herself onto the counter.

"How?" Palmon asked, looking surprised.

Gomamon yawned loudly. "It's too early for the sun to even be awake, let alone all of us."

"At least I'm not the only one who thinks so," Tentomon grumbled irritably.

Takeru shrugged, his expression remaining neutral. Then, in a soft voice: "I... I wanted to know what happened."

Mimi frowned suddenly. "Speaking of..." She crossed her arms, turning to face Koushiro with a look of disapproval. Her eyes flashed slightly with anger. "What were you _thinking?_ "

Koushiro blinked in confusion, surprised at her sudden change of tone. "What?"

"Sending that message," Mimi said irritably. "And at this hour, too. Of course he came over here so early; you probably scared him to death. You told us you were going to contact Gennai about yesterday, not scare everyone with a warning like that—"

"Wait." Takeru's head snapped up, eyes widening. "You were there, too? When Nii-san was hurt?"

Mimi gasped. "You told him Yamato was hurt?"

"N-no!" Koushiro raised his hands in defense. "I assured him that Yamato is _fine._ All I said was that something abnormal had happened to him—"

"That's just as bad," she argued. "How could you? You could have waited until Yamato was here to explain his story—"

"Yamato doesn't even remember—"

"Hey, hey, hey," Jou interrupted abruptly, putting a few feet of much-needed space between the two bickering teens. "Calm down, everyone. You all look tired as far as I can see, and that's ok, but arguing isn't going to do anything but make the situation worse. Takeru... why don't you go call Yamato and see if he's awake? The faster we can get everyone here, the better."

Takeru, who had become noticeably paler, simply stared at them for a moment as Mimi and Koushiro visibly deflated. He seemed lost in thought again, Sora realized, and she gently rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Takeru?" she pressed quietly.

"So he _was_ hurt..." he murmured softly, tentatively.

"Oh, Takeru," she cooed, pulling him in close. He was trembling slightly. "No, no, no, honey. He's ok. C'mon. Let's go give him a call, ok? Mimi, these two haven't eaten, so why don't you and Jou find something to make? I'm sure our digimon are hungry, too."

Mimi nodded, the argument with the computer expert abandoned in favor of the fulfilling Sora's request. Jou puffed up and became Teacher-Mode Jou and said something about the importance of eating, but it was hard to focus on him when a certain blond boy looked so afraid and distraught in her arms.

Sora turned around, tugging on Takeru's sleeve as she guided him to Koushiro's bedroom. Could feel it in her bones that Yamato wasn't the only thing on Takeru's mind.

* * *

Hikari stood in the middle of a group which included an irritable Miyako, a sleepy Poromon, an anxious Taichi, a grouchy Agumon, a somewhat calm Tailmon, a quiet Gabumon, and a very pissed-off Yamato. It was nearly eight-thirty, and yet it seemed so much later than that. Perhaps it was because the sun was already in the sky, proudly sharing its heat with a city that didn't seem to want it.

A foreboding feeling chewed its way into her body, and not only because of the message Koushiro had sent. They all stood outside Koushiro's apartment door, and since Yamato looked ready to explode, she wasn't sure it was a good idea to knock.

"Pacing isn't going to help your ankle, Yamato," Gabumon was saying carefully, trying to reach for his partner's hand. Yamato had abandoned his crutches in favor of frustration and nervousness and limped around the balcony with a look on his face that said he was ready to choke somebody. "Stop it, please. Let's just go inside."

"He's right," Tailmon added. "We should see what Koushiro and Gennai know as soon as we can."

"I can't _believe_ he did that," Yamato went on, his voice noticeably angrier than his two companions. "He wants to get everyone together, sure. That's a good idea. But waking up to a message like _that_ is... god, I can't imagine what everyone else is feeling..."

He kept speaking, but his words died off into an angry grumble. Hikari heard Miyako sigh to her right, and she glanced at her in confusion. She had pulled out her d-terminal and was typing.

Poromon struggled to escape his partner's grip as her arms tightened around him. "Miyako, what are you doing?"

"Trying to see who else is here to answer the door, because if Koushiro does it, there will probably be blood," she answered simply before presumably hitting the send button.

Seconds passed. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. Finally, her d-terminal beeped again and she echoed the message on her screen: "Jou is coming to let us in. He says Sora and Mimi are here, too."

She released a silent breath of relief. Jou was more or less a peacekeeper; a pacifist. Yamato's wrath could easily be tamed then, hopefully. The last thing everyone needed was a fight between team members.

Shuffling could be heard from inside. Hikari stilled and everyone quieted respectfully, waiting. When the door clicked—signaling it that had been unlocked—and opened, Jou's solemn face stared back at the eight of them.

"Come on in," he said immediately and frowned when he studied Yamato. "You should be sitting down."

"I'll sit down when Koushiro tells me what the fuck is going on," he snapped and brushed passed Jou in a way that seethed aggression. Something Ishida Yamato probably would not have done had he been thinking straight.

_Or not._

Hikari was quick to follow, along with Taichi, Miyako, and their partners. Koushiro's apartment was neat. Tidy. She hadn't been in here for a long time; probably months. It smelled like someone had been cooking recently. Rice, maybe—or something similar to that. When she entered Koushiro's bedroom, she blinked in surprise.

Indeed, Sora and Mimi were here. So were Takeru and Patamon.

It happened really fast. The moment Takeru's eyes connected with hers, they darted elsewhere. Landed on Yamato. He was on his feet in seconds, and Yamato suddenly gasped in surprise as Takeru tackled him, causing them both to stumble back a few feet.

"You're alright," was murmured, and it sounded so quiet and young that Hikari almost hadn't believed that it was Takeru who had spoken.

Every ounce of anger faded from Yamato's face and soon became an array of different emotions: confusion; shock; nervousness; concern. He slowly wrapped his arms around Takeru, putting weight on his good leg as if just realizing that his other one hurt, and scanned the faces of everyone in the room.

Hikari did the same. Koushiro had turned around in his desk chair to face them; Sora and Mimi looked worried (although there was a tinge of annoyance in Mimi's body language, but it didn't seem to be directed at anyone who had just entered the room). Jou—along with their partners—simply appeared tired.

"Yeah," Yamato said finally, gently. "I'm ok, Teek."

The room went silent. Takeru didn't seem to care that he was surrounded by people. But Hikari caught a glimpse of his expression and her stomach inched its way up into her throat when she saw the tears that glistened in his eyes.

Takeru pulled away after a bit of a pause, frowning. Hid behind a mask of worry. "Come, sit down."

Hikari knew the affects a younger sibling had on the older one from experience. Knew how easily it was for her to calm Taichi down. Takeru's voice, somehow, had triggered something in Yamato's brain that gave him no choice but to comply (something Jou didn't look too happy about), and Yamato slowly limped to Koushiro's bed.

Takeru convinced him to prop it up, with Jou's help. Yamato winced but didn't complain, a distant look crawling onto his face. Hikari realized that it had been Taichi who was carrying Yamato's crutches, and he placed them against the bedframe. Yamato ignored them.

"Good morning," Koushiro said carefully after a few moments. "How... how is your ankle doing?"

He shouldn't have spoken, Hikari silently said to herself. Everything Takeru had done seemingly went in reverse because Yamato automatically glared at him. "It's fine, but it would be better if I didn't wake up to a message that scared the living shit out of me. Thanks for that."

Koushiro visibly flinched. "Yamato, you know—"

"What? What do I know?" he interrupted. "I don't know anything. But you do. Start talking."

"Hey," Taichi snapped loudly, jumping in the way when Yamato once again looked ready to draw blood. "Take it easy. Let him talk, Yamato."

"Yes, please stop yelling," Tentomon pleaded. "We want to sleep."

It seemed true. Their partners were cuddled in the corner of the room, all looking ready to pass out. Yamato frowned, and when he looked ready to protest, Sora said gently, "He has a reason for this."

Koushiro took a deep breath when Yamato relaxed again somewhat. "I... I had no intention of upsetting anyone," he started cautiously, keeping his voice low. "I apologize that I caused you unnecessary anxiety. Believe me, that was the last thing I wanted to do. But you have to understand that we don't have much time, and I needed to convey Gennai's warning in a way that received everyone's attention."

Yamato worked his jaw. "Go on."

"Right now, I think it's best that we wait for everyone to arrive," Koushiro explained. "Gennai wants to meet us in the digital world. Ken recently told me that he's on his way, but since he lives in Tamachi, it might take a little bit. He's trying to get ahold of Daisuke since I can't. I've yet to hear from Iori."

There was a slight pause. Miyako, who had been quiet for a long time, suddenly said, "I'll try to call him."

Koushiro nodded in appreciation. She left the room within a few moments, and once again, silence reigned over them. Taichi carefully sat next to Yamato, as if to make sure that he wouldn't lash out on Koushiro again. Sora sat next to Mimi, and both of them remained eerily quiet.

Slowly, Hikari made her way toward Takeru, who had settled down on the floor at the foot of Koushiro's bed. When she caught his eyes again, and she immediately wanted to know what was going on in that mind of his. He seemed more troubled than he was letting on.

She pulled her knees up to her chest as she sat next to him. When no one initiated a conversation, she pulled out her phone and set it on vibrate. Typed up: _What's wrong?_

Takeru's phone buzzed next to her, signaling that he'd received the message. He didn't hesitate. _Nothing._

She half-expected that. But that didn't make it sting any less. _When did you get here?_

_A few hours ago,_ was the response.

_Do you know what happened last night?_

_No. They won't tell me much. Do you?_

_I wish I did._ She paused and then added, _Are you ok?_

_Idk._

That made her look up at him, and her eyes searched his expression once again for something that leaked what he was feeling on the inside. He used to be an open book to her, and yet it was like he'd glued all his pages together so no one could get in. She met his eyes for a brief second before he looked down at his phone and started typing again.

_I feel out of the loop. It scares me._

_It scares me too._

Takeru sighed quietly in response. Hikari let her phone fall in her lap as she placed her hand over his. It was cold compared to hers, and she squeezed, trying to feed some warmth into it. He squeezed back tenderly but kept his gaze on the floor. One of his arms was tucked into his lap, rubbing against his knee as though it itched. She realized that he was wearing long sleeves despite it being summer, and that struck her as odd; especially since Koushiro's apartment itself was pretty warm...

She didn't notice that she'd slipped into slumber until she felt a hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her. She blinked away the drowsiness that had suddenly consumed her, and hazy eyes met her brother's.

"C'mon, sleepyheads," he said, with a grin that was meant to be teasing. She glanced next to her to see that Takeru looked equally as confused as she was; he must've dozed off, too. Her hand was still resting over his, and she moved it slowly, rubbing the sleep from her right eye.

"Everyone's here," Koushiro informed, standing up. Hikari felt a hand tug on her free one, and suddenly the two of them were being pulled up from the floor.

"What time is it?" Takeru asked, sounding even more exhausted than before.

"A little after ten," Jou answered. Hikari blinked again, having no memory of falling asleep; let alone for that long. But they were right: all twenty-four of them—digimon and human counterparts—were huddled in Koushiro's room which didn't seem so small until now. Everyone was waiting for the two of them.

She sighed and glanced at her best friend, who looked like he needed to go back to sleep. But they didn't have much of a choice but to stay awake, so she swallowed her worry and asked, "Is everyone ready?"

"Ready as I can be this early," Daisuke said, which seemingly echoed the thoughts of multiple teenagers and digimon.

Koushiro had turned around and was facing his computer, preparing the portal. "Alright. Hold your ground, guys. Here we go."

Still disoriented from her awakening, Hikari was not prepared for the seemingly endless twists and turns that followed Koushiro's words despite going through the portal so many times in the past. The world warped and spun around her and when everything finally stilled into recognizable shapes, she almost fell to her knees and definitely would have if it hadn't been for her brother's steady hand on her arm. Tailmon was standing by her leg, trying to help steady her as well.

"We have you," Taichi said, gently. "Are you alright?"

"Y-yeah," she murmured, feeling slightly nauseated.

"We should have given you two a few more minutes to wake up," Sora said worriedly, but when she rested a hand on Takeru's shoulder, he brushed her off. Everyone seemingly recovered from traveling save for her and Takeru. Even Yamato was steadying himself out, with the help of Jou and Mimi.

"I'm fine," Takeru said with a wave of dismissal. "Where are we meeting Gennai?"

Hikari glanced up, focusing her gaze on her surroundings. They were at a lake of sorts, and it shimmered beautifully under the rays of a powerful sun. Trees bordered the large body of water, almost acting as a protective barrier. A faint breeze tickled her skin and tugged at her clothes and hair, and for some reason, that helped tame the dizziness that swelled within her.

It was warm here. Strangely peaceful. Calming. Hikari drew in a slow breath. Exhaled her anxieties, her fatigue, her confusion. Relaxed in her brother's arms, carefully. This place... it was familiar. Like she'd been here before.

Koushiro glanced around, brows furrowing in confusion. "This isn't where we were supposed to be transported."

"Wait—what? What do you mean by that?" Miyako blinked, and her expression was a cross between annoyed and afraid.

"We were supposed to arrive somewhere near Gennai's house," he explained, frowning. "But... I don't even recognize this place."

Hikari snapped out of her reverie as her ears caught Koushiro's somewhat fearful undertone as if he didn't understand how they had gotten here. Given Koushiro's curiosity-driven personality, she could already picture the wheels turning in his head. Especially when he curled his finger and brought it to his chin thoughtfully.

"Hold on," he said before reaching for his d-terminal. "I'll see if he can contact him."

"No need."

Hikari jumped when Gennai's voice sounded around them, and she wasn't the only one to look around to find the source. No culprit was spotted—until a bright light showered over them.

She closed her eyes to block out the brightness, and it took her several moments to realize that her D3, along with several others, had formed a strip of light that was aimed at the shore of the lake, and above the pale streams stood a familiar, hooded figure whom she recognized instantly. Gennai.

Several gasps sounded around her, and she wasn't sure if the breath she took was audible as everyone else's, but despite all of the strange phenomena she had witnessed in the past, the digital world never ceased to amaze her. Gennai was frowning, his eyes barely visible but undoubtedly solemn.

Immediately, the hooded man was bombarded with questions. Koushiro was first, asking what the meaning of this was. Then came Mimi, who seemed concerned and yet still annoyed. Jou was confused, and Daisuke next demanded to know why they were here because Koushiro had yet to explain that part of the situation. Even the digimon were yelling. Their voices merged together, growing louder, chaotic, indecipherable—until everyone was speaking over one another; and finally, when Hikari thought her ears would burst from the noise, Taichi's strong and steady voice shouted over them all:

"ENOUGH!"

A shudder rippled through her in an instant. Taichi's voice only rose like that when he lost his temper, or when the situation was dire; it never failed to send chills down her spine. It had the desired effect on everyone—they all shut up. Taking a deep breath, her brother stated calmly, "He can't answer anyone's questions when we're all speaking at once."

Gennai smiled, briefly. It was gone in a second. "Thank you, Taichi."

Her brother nodded, and Gennai pursed his lips into a thin line.

"I understand you've been hurt, Yamato," was the first thing he said, his gaze automatically landing on Yamato, who was leaning heavily on Mimi for support. Sora had now reached him, trying to coax him to sit. "Can you tell me what happened?"

Yamato swallowed, almost nervously. "No, I can't."

"I see." He nodded and didn't press any further on that subject. "Koushiro has informed me of yesterday's events. You don't remember that, either, do you?"

Finally, Sora had convinced him to at least use one crutch. The blond shook his head mutely, shifting his weight, and Hikari realized all pairs of eyes had rested on him.

"From what I understand, it seemed you were attacked."

"A-attacked?" Daisuke turned to the older blond, shocked. "By what?"

Yamato's eyes strayed away from Gennai to capture the gazes of Taichi and Sora. Then Jou. Mimi. Finally, Koushiro. Gennai's expression darkened, and he said, "That's what I've come here to tell you. I have terrible news."

Hikari's heart plummeted somewhere near her feet. Her head suddenly couldn't grasp onto what he said next because, for some reason, she already knew. Her knees trembled, and she was distantly aware that Tailmon had whispered her name, but it went through one ear and out the other. She blinked hard to regain focus.

"...have a feeling there will be another occurrence—and soon," Gennai was saying. "Whoever it was that is hurting you, will come back. And I'm certain that it won't stop at just you, Yamato. Usually, by now, I would be able to locate the culprit. But every time I am close, it slips away right before I can grasp it. It's like nothing I've ever seen before. This is one powerful digimon..."

"They're not digimon."

It appeared like Hikari was the only one who heard it because Gennai kept talking, his voice carrying into their minds, harboring the attention of most of those present. The words had been breathy and soft, but she definitely hadn't imagined it. Her head snapped up, eyes weaving automatically to the speaker's pale, exhausted face that was only a few feet away from her. "What did you say?"

She'd cut Gennai off, and was aware of it when everyone fell silent. But Hikari's eyes pinned Takeru, who instantly looked ready to backpedal, eyes wide and horrified.

"What is it, Hikari?" Gennai asked, and followed her gaze until he, too, was staring at Takeru. "Is there something you know, Takeru?"

Takeru stilled, webbed eyes shifting to the green floor beneath them. He was rubbing his arm and worked his jaw in a way that reminded her of Yamato. "No. I didn't say anything."

But he had. She hadn't been hearing things. But when Gennai paused as if waiting for Takeru to continue, and nothing was said, she could only feel confused. Hikari swallowed and her brows knitted with worry, once again wondering why Takeru was so incredibly hard to read despite the fact that she was one of his closest friends for almost six years. Suddenly she felt hollow inside; the horrible, foreboding feeling had returned, and it gnawed through her chest, her heart, her lungs.

She didn't realize that Gennai had begun talking again, and only a small percentage of her was interested in listening to what he had to say. The bigger part of her continued to wonder what thoughts were circling in her best friend's head.

_It's just like at the lake._

Realization clicked so fast and hard that it almost hurt, and she abruptly gazed back at the peaceful body of water that rested behind Gennai. She suddenly remembered why this place seemed so familiar—because she'd been here about a month ago, with Daisuke, Ken, Miyako, Iori, Takeru, and their digimon. This was where they spent the beginning of their summer break and that forest was where Takeru had disappeared.

Takeru seemed to know it, too. Where they were. His eyes said that he'd figured it out the moment she did, and the absolute horror etched into his features was enough for her to know that this place was not as peaceful as it seemed to be.

She glanced around again, trying to find some sort of recognition in the faces of the younger Chosen. But they were all looking at Gennai, and their captivated expressions made her feel even more confused than before.

_I... I don't want to be here anymore. It's not safe._

A sudden heavy feeling settled on her shoulders. It had shape-shifted from the calmness that pulsed through her minutes earlier, and within seconds, she could feel the claws of fear dig into her chest. Her bones. Her veins.

"Hikari," Tailmon said, nudging her. "What are you thinking about?"

_I want to go back home,_ she thought, except she had said it out loud and didn't realize it until once again Gennai's eyes leveled on hers.

"Are you feeling unwell?" he asked, and as soon as the question rolled off of his lips, the lights from their digivices wavered like static. His next reply was lost, but then: "No... it's back..."

"What? What's back?" Taichi inquired, and his fingers tightened around Hikari protectively. "Hikari, what's wrong?"

"We need to leave," she murmured distantly. "There's something... something that doesn't want us here..."

It was crushing her now, this overwhelming desire to get away. She looked at her brother but couldn't really see him. Everything had gone fuzzy. She felt uncomfortably warm and cold at the same time as though she was freezing to death and being burned alive simultaneously.

Without thinking she stumbled out of Taichi's grip and reached blindly for Takeru's hand. He was shaking—or was she?—as her fingers interlocked with his, and she pulled. Hard. "L-let's go..."

"H-Hikari—"

"Let's get out of here. _Now._ "

They were the first ones to pass through the portal. Hikari didn't look back.


	13. Crumble

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a party at takeru's house 💖💖💖
> 
> **tw for vomiting/panic attack**

"Secret hidden underneath it; trying hard to keep it safely out of reach. Creeping, I can feel it breathing, calling to the surface; finally in my dreams." — Surrender, Digital Daggers

* * *

**Ch 13 || Crumble**

"What the _hell_ , Hikari?!"

Said brunette was gasping for breath, cheeks flushed pink and otherwise extremely pale. Takeru was by her side, rubbing her arm, looking sympathetic and afraid. "I'm s-sorry, Nii-san, I just... I feel sick. T-take me home, please."

"But—" Koushiro started when Taichi didn't reply.

" _Please_ , Onii-san. Please take me home."

Taichi's face contorted with worry suddenly, all traces of anger abandoned as he stared at his little sister's uneasy expression. "Ok. C'mon, sis, let's go home..."

Slowly and hesitantly, Takeru released her into Taichi's care. Taichi gently took Hikari's trembling hand and guided her away, leaving the rest of their companions confused in their wake.

* * *

Four days had passed since then. They'd crawled by achingly slowly, seconds morphing into minutes, and minutes into hours. When Hikari and Takeru had stormed off in the middle of the meeting Gennai had called, everything had slowly fallen apart. Everyone was confused, and not to mention afraid; they'd left in a matter of minutes. The scarier thing was, Gennai hadn't even finished his point. No one had any leads.

Still, pretty much everyone had been searching for something nonstop. Koushiro seemed to be trying the hardest, but Ken hadn't seen the computer expert at all today so he had no idea what he was up to. Hikari and Takeru's older brothers were torn up, more so than their younger siblings; Sora was calling everyone at least once a day to ensure that they were all keeping up with their health; Mimi had been strangely and curiously quiet; and Jou had been at the sides of everyone, trying to help however he could.

The younger group, who were currently in Takeru's bedroom, didn't know what to do. It had been years since they'd been in this type of situation. Ken sat on Takeru's bed now, unaware of how much time had passed since they'd arrived. They were at Takeru's apartment to sort of make something of what had happened, to try to figure out all the little hints that were usually left by an enemy. So far, they'd just in silence for the past ten minutes and hadn't gotten anywhere.

It wasn't helping that Takeru and Hikari were acting so oddly. He felt compelled to ask, but neither of them would admit to any kind of strange behavior or feelings despite the pushing of their brothers and everyone else.

Takeru had claimed to not know what had happened, and Hikari simply said she had felt ill and wanted to leave. But that didn't explain the sudden, terrified expressions that had painted their faces or why they had left as a pair without even waiting for their partners to catch up.

"I should get home," Iori said suddenly, standing as his words broke the silence. "It's getting late. My mom is probably wondering where I am," he added when they looked at him with confusion.

Ken finally glanced at Takeru's alarm clock, which read 8:53 p.m. He supposed Iori was right. Even though it was summer break, he still had to stay on a schedule that followed some semblance of order. His mother wouldn't be too happy with him if he didn't come home at a reasonable hour. Especially since he lived so far away.

Before he could say anything, Miyako stood as well, dusting off her capris. "I guess I should get going, too. It'll only be a matter of time before my parents start wondering the same thing." She paused and looked at Hikari. "You're still staying over at my place, right?"

"Yeah," Hikari said. She gathered Tailmon in her arms, and then glanced at Takeru and added, "We'll stop by tomorrow—hey, are you ok?"

Ken raised his eyebrows, looking at Takeru, along with everyone else. Hikari's question seemed to perk the interest of everyone—except for the person toward whom it was directed.

Takeru's gaze was locked on Patamon, who lay curled up in his lap, eyes closed. His fingers trekked up the little guy's spine, his lips curved into a frown.

"Takeeeru," Poromon chimed, bouncing around on the floor.

"Are you awake over there?" Upamon asked.

Takeru finally looked up, blinking. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"We're gonna head out," Miyako explained, casually leaning over to pick up a too-chirpy-to-go-to-sleep Poromon.

Hikari flashed a smile. "We'll see you tomorrow, 'k?"

Takeru's frown eased somewhat but didn't disappear. He looked at the time, and then back at the two girls. Then he started to return the smile, but for some reason, it didn't seem as genuine as hers. "Ok. I guess it's getting dark, huh?"

"Yeah," Iori said quietly, shifting on his feet.

Takeru's gaze shifted to the youngest Chosen. "We'll see you tomorrow, then. Have a good night, Iori."

His words were echoed by many others as Iori collected Upamon into his arms. Miyako gave him a quick hug and said, "Tell your family I said hi."

Iori smiled. "Alright."

"I'll let you know when we meet tomorrow," she called out before Iori disappeared into the hallway. "We should catch up with him before he gets too far," she added suddenly.

"He lives a few floors away," Daisuke deadpanned, raising his eyebrows.

"I want to make sure he makes it home ok," she replied in defense.

Hikari grinned again and shook her head. "Alright, alright—let's go."

"Be careful," Takeru said. Added, "You know, just in case."

It was a simple phrase, tossed out into the room casually and softly; and yet his words seemed to strike an inaudible conversation between eyes and facial movements. There was a pause as Hikari's smile faltered just a tiny bit. Something unrecognizable flickered in her gaze, but it disappeared as quickly as it had appeared.

Tailmon hopped to the floor again, and Hikari walked over to him and pulled him into an embrace. "Sleep well, alright?"

"...you, too, Hika," he murmured quietly. Had he hesitated? Ken must have imagined it, because a second later, Takeru smiled brightly over a wall made of bricks. "That goes for you guys as well," he told Miyako, Poromon, and Tailmon; before he glanced at him and Daisuke. "Are you heading home, too?"

"That's gonna be kind of tiring, considering you have to ride a train," Miyako said thoughtfully to Ken after a moment.

Ken opened his mouth to reply but stopped when he felt Daisuke poke him in the ribs. Frowning, he glanced at him, only to find that he wasn't looking at him. He followed his best friend's gaze and felt his resolve dampen considerably.

Chibomon was leaning on Takeru's left foot, snoozing quietly. Minomon was right beside the tiny dragon digimon, not quite asleep but still looking pretty tired. His frown faded, turned into a smile.

Takeru had looked down at them as well, and his face softened a little. "Sorry. I didn't mean to steal your digimon."

"Of course you didn't." Daisuke grinned. He looked out of the window, and then back at their blond friend. Asked, "Would you like some company? I promise I won't steal your food." He paused thoughtfully. "Well, not all of it, anyway."

Takeru chuckled, and for a moment, Ken swore he saw a hint of relief flash through his blue eyes. "No, I don't mind. Although you might need to call your parents or something."

"Well, I kind of told them I was staying over anyway," Daisuke said sheepishly, and then shrugged in defense when Miyako looked at him pointedly. "What? I figured we'd be here later than we planned, and, well, you know. Besides, who would be cruel enough to wake them"—he gestured to their partners—"up?"

Takeru's smile didn't fade. "That's ok. I don't mind company."

Ken glanced over at their slumbering digimon, and then at Takeru, and then Daisuke. He didn't have the heart to wake them up, either. And even though he'd traveled by train alone plenty of times before, the idea seemed unsettling now.

His hesitance must have been written all over his face, because Takeru asked, "Do you want to stay, too?" Then, hastily: "You don't have to if you don't want to, though."

"Sure," he said. "But I actually _do_ have to phone my mom."

"Well, that settles that," Miyako said. "It worried me to think that you walking all that way by yourself." She smiled softly and pulled Ken into a hug, then turned to Takeru and embraced him as well. "Don't do anything stupid, ok?"

She rolled her eyes when Daisuke snorted, giving him a friendly kiss on the cheek. "I mean it."

Ken laughed as Daisuke grumbled, waving at the two girls as they walked toward Takeru's bedroom door to leave the apartment. A door clicked somewhere Ken couldn't see, and he assumed they had left.

Daisuke released a quiet whistle. "So, should we fix something to eat now, or...?"

Takeru laughed, a sound that was contagious enough to make Ken laugh, too. "I forgot that we haven't eaten yet." He carefully slid Patamon out of his lap, setting him on his desk chair so he could continue his nap without any interruptions. The little guy stirred but didn't wake, and the three decided to take to the kitchen.

Ken decided to call his mother while the other boys hunted for something to eat. His fingers toyed with the hem of his shirt as he explained everything, omitting the part about the digimon so she wouldn't worry. When he made it back to the kitchen, Takeru had already retrieved the bread and he and Daisuke were busy making sandwiches.

"Are you sure your mother won't mind us staying over?" he asked Takeru, who just smiled and shook his head.

"Nah, she won't care. She won't be home till late anyways."

A few minutes later, all three teens returned to the room with their respective sandwiches. Daisuke was grumbling about how it certainly was not too late to make ramen, and that no, they couldn't make the instant kind because it was a disgrace and whoever said otherwise would be shunned. Takeru was shushing him and kept insisting that their digimon were sleeping, and his voice was going to wake them if he didn't lower it. Ken just laughed quietly, deciding to keep out of it as he chewed his food silently.

"I smell food," Chibomon mumbled from somewhere across the room, and the three looked to see the little digimon rubbing his eyes tiredly. Takeru looked at Daisuke pointedly, and Daisuke just shrugged because the damage was done, and once the word 'food' was mentioned, there was no way to quiet Chibomon.

The moment he saw the bread in Daisuke's right hand, his eyes widened, giving it an eager look that only proved Takeru's silent point.

Daisuke sighed but smiled anyway. "Here, pal." He tore it in half, walking over to his partner and handing him one, before patting his head affectionately. "Don't wake the others, ok?"

"What time is it?" Chibomon whispered, as he practically inhaled Daisuke's generous offer.

Ken glanced at his phone. "Half-past nine."

"It seems later than that," Daisuke said absently, sitting on the edge of Takeru's bed, right next to Takeru.

"It has been a long day," he reasoned, shrugging. And it had, really. He didn't remember what time he'd woke up this morning, but he did know that it had been early, and with that realization came a feeling of sudden exhaustion.

Daisuke read him easily. "Should we call it a night?"

"Should we?" Ken asked, and glanced at Takeru for his opinion, only to find that once again, he wasn't paying attention. His eyes were locked on Patamon's slumbering form, filled with emotions Ken couldn't read.

"Hey," Daisuke said suddenly, nudging him when he didn't respond. "Hey, what's wrong?"

Takeru started and met his gaze in confusion. Whispered, "Sorry. What?"

"That's, like, the fifth time you've zoned out." Daisuke's expression changed from fatigued to concern as he spoke. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yeah," he murmured, and when he smiled, Ken had a feeling it was forced.

"You look like you haven't slept very well in a while," Daisuke observed abruptly, which made Takeru blink. A glance at his face made Ken realize that it was true—but it didn't seem like Takeru was going to admit that.

" _Have_ you been sleeping well?" Ken prompted when Takeru remained silent.

Takeru closed up all of a sudden, just like before; and hid behind his barrier, smiling more brightly toward the both of them, as if the exhaustion swimming in his eyes wasn't there. As if everything was ok.

"I guess we all woke up pretty early this morning," was his reply, and he had said it so easily that Ken was tempted to let it go. But he knew the art of hiding far too well, and he knew that there had to be some way to get him to crack, to realize that there was no reason _to_ hide.

A small part of him also knew that if Takeru wanted them to know, he would tell them, and he could respect that.

"Alright," he decided to say, and added, "Should we go to sleep, then?"

Takeru shrugged, but his smile faltered. There seemed to be a long moment of hesitation before he finally said, "Sure. My mom should be home in a few hours and she won't like it if we're still awake." He stood up, stretched his arms out a little. "I have a pallet in my mom's room for when Nii-san stays if you guys want to sleep on it."

"Sounds good to me," Daisuke said, before yawning.

It didn't take long to make sleeping arrangements. Ken had borrowed some sleepwear from Takeru and decided to change into it when Daisuke left to retrieve his backpack. Takeru disappeared behind the doorway, allowing him some privacy, and returned about a few minutes later with a few extra pillows and blankets and a decently-sized shikibuton that Ken didn't mind sharing with Daisuke.

As Takeru started to set the shikibuton up, he asked, "Do you guys need any more blankets?"

Ken shrugged, carefully maneuvering his slumbering digimon partner into his lap. "No, that's ok."

"I don't think I can handle another blanket if it gets hot." Daisuke scrunched up his nose. Then he gave Takeru a quizzical look, raising his brows. "Speaking of, are you going to sleep in that?"

Takeru glanced down at the long-sleeved shirt he was wearing. Ken didn't know if he'd actually bristled, or if his fatigued mind had imagined it; his expression tightened and then quickly became neutral.

Eventually, Takeru's shoulders lifted in a shrug, so Ken decided not to question it. "Yeah. Why not?"

"It just might get hot is all," Daisuke said.

"I usually get cold at night anyway."

Once everyone was situated, Takeru switched off his light and maneuvered back to his bed with questionable skill. Ken closed his eyes before long and found himself slipping into a dream.

* * *

Ken was wrenched awake by a series of sharp, painful gasps. His ears caught a shaky sob, tracked thundering footsteps, and he jumped when the door swung open violently.

He sat up slowly, brows raised. As he blinked and his eyes adjusted to the dim light of the moon that spilled through Takeru's bedroom window, he looked around. Daisuke was snoozing quietly—ok, not so quietly—on a thick blanket on the floor, as he had rolled off the pallet at some point during the night. Chibomon was curled close to him. Minomon lay, eyes closed, near his abdomen. Takeru's alarm clock flashed 3:37 a.m.

It was Patamon who seemed to be awake, eyes blinking sleepily as he caught Ken's confused, fatigued gaze; before weaving to the bedroom door, dazedly whispering, "...Takeru?"

He was forced into wakefulness when the retching started.

His fingers dug into Takeru's bedpost as he hoisted himself up off the shikibuton, weaving through a mess of blankets as he walked carefully toward the door. The retching grew louder as he neared it, and then there was coughing. Horrible, painful coughing that made Ken wince.

The bathroom light wasn't on, but Ken could hear short, quick gasps as the heaving stopped and made his way toward it.

"Takeru...?"

Takeru stiffened the moment his name fell from Ken's lips, and he inhaled sharply as he whirled around to face him. Ken's hand traced the wall for the light switch, and as he flipped it on, Takeru squeezed his eyes shut, hands moving to hide his face as if to block it out. Ken's eyes widened, and it wasn't just because of the way Takeru winced.

Hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, Takeru looked absolutely miserable. His face, awash with tears, was twisted with horror; eyes webbed and haunted and ringed darkly with exhaustion. Only a few feet away, Ken could see the vicious tremors in his body.

"What's wrong, Takeru? Are you sick?"

Slowly, Takeru lowered his arms, flushed the toilet. Slammed the lid shut. "N-no, it's no...nothing, Ken... G-go back to bed, please..." He raked a hand through his hair and added, "I'm... I'm used to dealing with this by myself."

But the way his voice quivered—his panicked undertone—told Ken otherwise. It was obviously something, and he shouldn't have to deal with it alone. Ken wracked his brain, searched for an answer that was harbored underneath the cobwebs of fatigue.

"Did... did you have a nightmare?" was the reason he chose, because it was the only one that seemed logical.

Takeru didn't answer, so he acted first. Carefully, he knelt down next to him in an attempt to soothe him.

But the moment he extended his hand to touch him, Takeru recoiled. His eyes popped wide and glazed over, swimming with emotions so horrifying deep that it began to scare Ken as well.

Panic. Confusion. Fear. Icy, nauseating fear. The kind of fear that pierced straight through bone, embedding itself in the heart like a deadly parasite. But what could have horrified him so much that it forced him to react so violently? How was he supposed to extinguish his friend's fears when it latched onto him so tightly?

He'd been so focused on the terror that glistened in Takeru's eyes that he didn't even realize that his friend was screaming, or when the screaming had started. Part of him wanted to scream, too, but he couldn't. Wouldn't.

His hand acted instead.

Takeru's head snapped to the side and he quieted instantly, but his eyes remained wide and watery; face etched with disbelief. Ken felt guilt wash over him and thought he would be sick. But he needed to figure out a way to capture Takeru's attention, to get him to see that he was safe. And just sitting there wasn't going to help.

"I'm... I'm sorry I had to hit you," he started, "but Takeru, you've got to listen to me. It's ok. You're ok. It's just me. Just me."

As the shock wore off, a sob escaped from Takeru's lips. " _God_ , Ken, I—I'm sorry... I j-just... damn it, I d-don't know... I didn't see—and you w-were all bloody—and I'm... god, I'm so freaking insane... so insane..."

"Shh... it's alright," he soothed because it was all he could do. Just keep talking to him. Convince him that it was ok.

Movement. Takeru glanced up shakily, eyes trained on the doorway. Ken slowly turned around as well. Saw Daisuke standing there, tired and worried and confused; with Chibomon cradled in his arms. Minomon was hopping over to him, concerned.

"Takeru, why... why are you shaking?" Daisuke whispered, sleep lacing his voice.

A moment later, Patamon was hovering over Daisuke, eyes brimming with tears. "Takeru, what happened? You had another nightmare, didn't you? How bad was it?"

With his suspicions confirmed, Ken glanced back at Takeru. But Takeru wasn't looking at anyone anymore. His face twisted with panic and he doubled over, looking ready to vomit again.

"Hey, hey, hey." Instinct kicked in; told Ken to give him some space. So he did, and the voice that flowed from his lips was different from the anxious one that bubbled question after frantic question in his head. "Take a deep breath, ok? You're hyperventilating. C'mon. Do it with me, alright? Breathe, slowly now."

"I—I _c-can't_ ," he rasped, holding his head in his hands as if it hurt. "I need... I want to..."

Want to _what?_ Ken inwardly shook his head, not dwelling on that for too long.

"Shh, yes, you can. Yes, you can. Focus on it. One... two... three... _breathe._ " As he spoke, he demonstrated, inhaling slowly, then exhaling. He repeated this action until Takeru shakily started to comply, and together, they just breathed. Slowly. Carefully. Quiveringly.

"...two... three... _breathe._ There you go, Takeru. Keep breathing. Focus."

Gradually, _gradually_ , the shudders in Takeru's body began to calm. He drew in another cleansing breath, and it seemed to be getting easier for him. Mind made up, Ken neared him. Vigilantly. Gently. Rested a hand on his shoulder. Murmured, "Let's go back to sleep."

He helped Takeru to his feet. Obviously not ready for movement, he stumbled, and Daisuke offered his support, extending an arm. Chibomon hopped to the floor as Daisuke helped steady Takeru, mumbling, "It's ok. I got you."

Ken disappeared into Takeru's room, opting to retrieve some blankets as Daisuke led Takeru to the front room, which seemed to be a good idea. For some reason, the front room felt warmer somehow. Safer.

He heard Daisuke say something but didn't catch what Takeru mumbled in response. As he returned, he handed him a blanket and asked, "Why don't you lie down?"

Takeru's hesitance was obvious. It was as if the last thing he wanted to do was go back to sleep. But the exhaustion etched across his pale face told Ken otherwise, so he insisted, "At least for a few hours, Takeru."

"We'll be here," Minomon assured, as Chibomon yawned a "Me, too."

Patamon pushed himself into the air, nudged Takeru a little. His eyes burned with concern. "You need to sleep."

He frowned but didn't protest. Instead, he mumbled two single words: "I'm sorry."

It came out as a croak. Broken. Winded. A shadow of his usual voice. Ken smiled the best he could in reassurance. "Don't be."

"No, really," Takeru whispered. "I... I didn't mean to wake you up... I didn't..." He paused and drew in a deep breath, wiping at his face. "I didn't mean for... for it to get so bad... this was such a bad idea, having you guys stay..."

Ken blinked, and all of a sudden, Takeru's words from earlier echoed in his head, a rope of wind rustling the trees in a silent night: _"I'm used to dealing with this by myself."_

How many times had this happened before? Ken thought about how long it had taken him to get through to him. How long it had taken him to calm him down. And he looked at him. _Really_ looked at him. Studied his pale face. His haunted eyes.

It made sense. Daisuke had been right earlier when he said he looked like he hadn't slept. It was because he hadn't. Ken pondered over the past few days and even weeks. Realized that Takeru had been looking sleep-deprived for quite some time now. Why hadn't anyone else noticed that before?

And he remembered when they went to the lake to celebrate the beginning of summer break. Memories slammed into him, one after another, and his eyes widened. Takeru had looked just as tired that day. He'd asked questions, but Takeru brushed them off with a smile. The mix of emotions that crossed his face that day had prompted Ken to push further, and he received the same results.

Then he'd gone into the forest and didn't return. Ken knew it had been a bad idea to let him go alone. After about ten minutes, he was still gone, and by that time, Hikari had noticed and the two gathered the attention of all the others. Patamon was a wreck upon waking and flew into the woods without giving anyone a chance to come up with a plan. They were forced to follow him.

They'd split up. Daisuke, Miyako, and Iori searched one part of the woods; and Ken had gone with Hikari, who was so busy tailing Patamon that she hadn't noticed he and their digimon were behind her. It had taken about thirty minutes to find him. Alone and shaking, Takeru had looked like he'd seen a ghost. And he didn't answer any of their questions then, either. In fact, by the end of the night, he was smiling and reassuring them that nothing had happened, and he was fine.

_It's amazing how much a smile can hide._

"When did you start having nightmares, Takeru?"

He asked it softly, but the moment the question tumbled from his lips, it seemed Takeru wanted to backpedal. His eyes widened. "Wh-what?"

"Earlier. Patamon asked if you'd had another one," he said gently. Then repeated, "How long have you been having nightmares?"

Takeru hesitated for a long, hard moment. He opened his mouth to speak many times, but he couldn't seem to find the right words, so he sat there, confused and scared; like a small boy who was forever lost.

"They deserve the truth," Patamon murmured lightly.

The truth. The way Patamon had said it seemed like there was more to the story than just a disturbing dream. Hell, Ken knew it _had_ to be more than a damned dream. His gaze met Takeru's red-rimmed eyes, and Takeru swallowed hard. Then he looked at his hands as they curled into fists and uncurled.

And finally, quietly, he mumbled, "For... for about a month, I guess..."

 _That_ long? Ken's eyes widened again, for more reasons than just Takeru's confession. "Since the beginning of summer?"

Takeru nodded mutely, biting his lip.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Daisuke had been the one who had spoken this time, and Takeru shrugged, eyes still trained on his fingers.

"I... I don't know..."

"We're your friends, Takeru," Minomon said suddenly.

"Don't you trust us anymore?" Chibomon asked in a low whisper.

That sent a spiderweb of cracks up Takeru's wall. His eyes filled with tears. "O-of course I do," he said. "I just... I don't know, I was... I was scared..."

"Does this have anything to do with that day at the lake? Or... or why Hikari left so quickly the other day?" Ken asked quietly, keeping his voice careful.

Takeru's response was immediate. His eyes widened in absolute horror, and for a long, frightening moment, Ken swore he was going to start hyperventilating again.

But he didn't. He remained quiet, never offering an explanation. Silence webbed around them, so carefully constructed that Ken couldn't find a way to escape without being cut by one of its threads. What could he say? What _was_ there to say? He was at a loss, wanting to help but not knowing _how_ to help. Ken watched Takeru's barrier crumble, watched his friend tear apart at the seams.

Until Takeru wiped his eyes on his sleeve, stitched himself back together. Glued the pieces of his broken wall together again. Stacked the bricks high. "I'm sorry."

Patamon curled into his stomach, whispering, "I think you should go to sleep, Takeru. I'll be right here."

It seemed like the best option. A little past four in the morning, all of them were exhausted. The circles under Takeru's eyes looked like bruises and he was in desperate need of a good night's sleep, which he wouldn't receive tonight. But at least they could try.

So he urged Takeru onto the couch, silently encouraging him to lie down. And he did, slowly. As his back reclined against the sofa, Ken helped him cover up. The disapproving look on his face told him he didn't need his aid.

Ken pleasantly ignored that look. He insisted, "Go to sleep," in a low whisper, and after a moment, Takeru relaxed visibly. His eyes fluttered shut before they opened again.

"You're not gonna tell anyone, are you?"

He _still_ planned on keeping it to himself even though the evidence that he wasn't ok was _right in front of them?_ Ken paused, looked at Daisuke. Daisuke started to shrug, but stopped and echoed Ken's thoughts: "You can't keep this a secret forever, Takeru."

"It's not healthy," Minomon added.

"I—I know," he whispered. "But I... just, please?"

His voice, tinged with timidity and fragility, made Ken nod before he realized that it was the wrong thing to do. He knew without looking that Daisuke didn't approve, that he wanted to say something that would make Takeru really _think._

But before he could, Takeru's eyes drifted shut again, and his chest rose and fell faintly: a sign that he had finally fallen into a restless sleep.

There was a long, long pause before Daisuke spoke. When he did, his voice was clipped and quiet. "You know he can't bottle this up, Ken. You _know_ it."

"Yes, I know." He breathed out slowly as he sank down the edge of the couch; wiped at his face with tired hands. "But it isn't our secret to tell."

"It may not be, but just because it's not our secret doesn't mean we can't help," Daisuke muttered, eyes turning into steel. "You saw him. He can't fight on his own anymore. We're a team. Someone _has_ to know. Especially since Gennai and everyone else has been trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Why are he and Hikari trying to act like things are so goddamn _normal_ when they're not? Something is wrong, Ken. _Very_ wrong."

"I know," Ken repeated, and he did, because what Daisuke was saying was undoubtedly true, and he couldn't deny that. But it was too late—early? He didn't care—and he didn't have the energy to keep the conversation going. So he said, "Can we talk about this later? I know the answer won't change, but for now, can we just get some rest?"

"He's right," Minomon said quietly from his place by Takeru's hip.

Chibomon yawned in agreement and curled into the crook of Takeru's elbow. "It's too late to be talking, anyways..."

Maybe it was his pleading tone, or maybe it was their digimon, or maybe it was because Daisuke himself seemed pretty fatigued, but he let it slide. He settled back in the chair he was sitting in, pulled his blanket closer to him. Closed his eyes.

"Good night," Ken mumbled.

"You mean morning," Daisuke replied, and Ken didn't even have the strength to roll his eyes. But then Daisuke sat up suddenly. "Hey, Ken, wait. What happened at the lake?"

"Later..." he murmured, feeling sleep reach out to embrace him. "I'll tell you later..."

He didn't notice they had closed as well until he realized that it took a worrying amount of effort to open them again.

So he didn't.


	14. Like Glass

"This is what it takes to breathe. This is what it takes to fake a smile and say that everything's ok; as long as I take blame." — Built for Blame, Get Scared

* * *

**Ch 14 || Like Glass**

Takeru was treading in murky water. Somewhere, he heard a door opening and then closing. Somewhere, he heard voices. But he didn't want to leave. Didn't want to fully wake up—not after finally settling into the beautiful, misty sea of sleep.

Sleep. When had he fallen asleep? And why, all of a sudden, had it become so peaceful? As the voices grew closer, grew louder, Takeru finally decided to come up for air.

His eyes fluttered open dazedly, but trying to consume the bright, blurry haze around him all at once was too much. They squeezed shut and he brushed the fatigue from them with hands that felt like rubber.

"...stopped by, you know, to see what the plans are for today..."

"...ah, ok... and when are you...?"

"...there's food! Food!"

"...shit, you _did_ bring food...! See, Hikari, there's a reason I love you..."

"... _I'm_ the one who brought food, idiot..."

"...then I guess I can love you, too..."

Takeru blinked a few times as he realized slowly that he recognized those voices. As his vision cleared a little, he caught a glimpse of chestnut-brown hair. The flash of a camera. Heard the purr of Tailmon's voice as she joined the conversation.

"H-Hika...?" he murmured, uncertain. The voices quieted somewhat, and the next thing he knew, Hikari was kneeling in front of him with a smile that threatened to collapse into laughter.

"Morning, sleepyhead."

She sounded like Taichi for a moment, the back of his mind noticed. Takeru glanced around; saw the faces of his friends. Miyako, who was engaged in a small, whisper-yelling argument with Daisuke. Iori, who was setting up a box on the coffee table and trying to tame the group of hungry digimon. Ken, who was torn between being amused by Miyako and Daisuke, and looking at Takeru in concern. Takeru frowned as he noted the slight rings under his eyes.

"Did you get enough rest last night?" Hikari inquired, her smile faltering as she noticed his frown. Or maybe it was because the circles shadowing his eyes were worse than Ken's. As if actually paying attention, Miyako broke her verbal war with Daisuke and raised an eyebrow.

"What's up, anyway?" she asked. "Not that you never sleep in, but you're usually up before it gets this late. Aren't you an early riser?"

"What time is it?" Even to him, his voice was foreign. Breathy. Soft. Too soft.

"A little after eleven," Iori answered.

"You slept a lot," Upamon chirped.

Shit. How could he have slept that late? Takeru swallowed, tried to get rid of the cotton stuck in his throat. He rubbed his eyes again in an attempt to wake himself up. How had Ken and Daisuke managed it? Every time his eyelids drifted shut, he had a hard time trying to open them again. Exhaustion refused to let go of him.

"Sorry," he mumbled when he realized they were all waiting for a response. When Hikari's eyes brimmed with worry, he shoved all thoughts of sleep toward the back of his mind, locked them in a chest, threw away the key. "I guess I should set an alarm, yeah?"

"Alarm? Those noisy things that scream at you in the morning to get up even though you tell it to snooze a bunch of times?" Poromon's face scrunched up in disgust. "Those suck."

Hikari gave him a long, hard look, but kept quiet. Suspicion glistened in her eyes, asking questions that went unspoken. Takeru couldn't hold her gaze for long before looking away in shame.

It wasn't that he wanted to keep things from her. From them. Especially because of the events five days prior. Even though they were his friends, he couldn't figure out how to tell them. He couldn't risk hurting anyone else. Ken and Daisuke already knew enough and were probably already going to ask questions, but he didn't have answers.

So when Miyako asked, "Which one do you want?" to change the subject, Takeru felt a sense of relief wash over him, and as his gaze landed on what she was gesturing to. Relief shifted to hunger, and as if to give that hunger a voice, his stomach grumbled.

She laughed—a sound that eased the tension building in his muscles. "Here." She picked a doughnut up with a napkin and handed it to him. "I thought I'd bring a little something for us to eat; you know, since we came early and all."

_Early?_ Takeru blinked, and it took a few moments for him to dispel the cobwebs gathering in his brain. When had they planned anything? Memories threaded themselves through his mind, coming in bits and pieces before... ah.

Last night, before the girls and Iori had left, they'd made arrangements to comb the digital world for clues regarding the meeting with Gennai five days ago. How had he forgotten?

"When are we planning on leaving?" he asked quietly, before taking Miyako's generous offer with a soft "thank you."

"Hopefully sometime soon," Chibomon piped up through a mouthful of food. "I'm bored."

"Me too," Upamon added.

Takeru looked at them and smiled softly, hesitantly. Before he could say anything, Iori said, "That's what we came over to find out."

"Considering all three of you don't seem to know how to check for messages," Miyako grumbled a little irritably.

That made Takeru blink again. Where did he put his d-terminal—or his phone, for that matter? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ken reaching in his pocket as if searching for the same thing.

Daisuke just frowned. "Uh, yeah. We were _sleeping._ Not everyone likes to wake up bright and early."

Miyako fixed a glare on him. "We know that _now._ "

Takeru took a bite of his doughnut and swallowed. He didn't want to dwell on the subject of sleeping for too long. Still, Daisuke didn't say a word about Takeru's nightmare. And Takeru sure as hell wasn't going to speak up.

Thinking about it made him shiver. He tried to push it out of his mind, but once the one thought surfaced, they attacked his brain in waves. Without realizing it, his fingers dug into Patamon's fur, pulled him closer.

His partner looked up at him, blinking in concern. But Takeru didn't meet his gaze. Could only think about the horrific events in his dream: all of his friends, bloody and dead, in the same order as the dream that had started it all. But this time, they weren't on the ground.

They'd been hanging by the neck. All of them. And their eyes had been open, staring right at him. Through him. Their pleas echoed, unbidden, in his mind—a distorted, ghostly soundtrack to a movie he had no interest in watching:

_Takeru, didn't you hear us? The screaming, Takeru. Takeru, why?_

"...and that's why—hey, Takeru. I'm talking to you. I know you just woke up and all, but I swear, the next time you zone out on me, I might just whack you one."

His mind catapulted back into reality, and Takeru felt his face heat up as the remark left Miyako's lips. She was joking, sure. But how had he allowed himself to become so controlled by his thoughts that he was unaware of everything around him?

He felt Daisuke's and Ken's eyes on him. He made sure he didn't make eye contact with them in fear that he would drown in the worry that swam in their gazes and tried his best to play along with his friend's teasing.

"Sorry. I guess I'm still a little tired," he replied lamely, his voice not nearly as strong as he wanted it to be. The last thing he needed was more questions. Questions would get his mind racing on the nightmares, and the nightmares would get him thinking about the ghosts, and the ghosts made him want to—

No. _No._ He wasn't going there. Not right now. Not in front of them. Especially since... he inwardly shook his head. Stood abruptly, asking, "Are you guys thirsty? There's juice in the fridge."

There was a bit of a pause before Hikari smiled softly and said, "Sure." Her response was echoed by Daisuke and Miyako, and about a minute later, he was trying to carry four cups of juice from the kitchen to the front room without spilling it.

They spent the remainder of the morning chatting and planning and finishing their breakfast. Takeru grabbed his second doughnut after a bit of coaxing from Miyako, who said that even though it was a bit of a sweet breakfast, he needed more than one to hold him over for the day ahead of them. He wasn't all that hungry after the first one, but he ate it anyway so she wouldn't push further.

Takeru sipped his juice. Daisuke held the record of doughnut consumption at four and only stopped because Miyako—who seemed very, very excited to do some hunting and possibly ass-kicking in the digital world—told him that he needed to save some for the rest of them. Daisuke, frowning, shrugged and said that if she was worried about running out, then she should have brought more than two dozen. The digimon, after all, had consumed their box of doughnuts in record time. And there were about three left in the box Miyako had bought for the humans to eat.

Soon enough, though, the box was empty, and they finished their drinks. Satisfied with their breakfast (lunch?), they cleaned up their mess. Daisuke disappeared into the bathroom to change, and Ken followed in suit, once again borrowing a set of clothes from Takeru.

Takeru went into his room and slipped out of his sleepwear, grabbing a pair of shorts from his dresser. He reached for a short-sleeved white shirt that was hanging up in his closet and hesitated for a moment.

_Sleeves. Something with sleeves._

He tossed the white shirt aside and threaded his arms through the sleeves of a faded green one to cover thin crimson marks of failed escape. He did his best not to look at them, but it was hard; especially since he was now alone and... and he really, _really_ wanted to despite not knowing _why_ he wanted to. He paused, eyes trailing to his most recent self-produced emotional outlet.

Rewinding. Sleepless nights; kept secrets; disembodied whispers; unseen shadows. The day after Gennai's meeting: Clean, just like he'd promised himself.

The night after that: He'd been so tempted. It was hard to keep secrets buried when so many people were now involved, even if they didn't _know_ how deeply they were rooted in the situation. Or how much he knew.

The night after that: Another nightmare. He hadn't been loud enough to wake Patamon. Just a small gasp as he launched out of slumber, smothered by shaking hands before it could turn into a scream. He couldn't stay in his room, so he abandoned it in favor of the bathroom with every intention of simply waiting out the anxiety, nausea, and painful heart palpitations; and before he knew it, he was thinking to himself: _How could I break a promise this soon?_

Last night: He probably would have if Ken and Daisuke hadn't been there to calm him down. Oh, he had been so close. After slipping once, it was so much easier to just let yourself fall rather than trying to keep yourself upright. To remain on the ground. To become buried, because for some reason, staying underneath everything felt so much safer than finding a ladder to climb your way out.

_Maybe... maybe, just once. To... to keep things in check. Just for control._ Control. _Nobody has to know._

He stared as if his eyes were the knives, and he pictured all of the possible ways that he could do it. Thought of the first time; the bliss that it had brought to him. The way it had helped. How it had given him a sense of relief and release that no one else could.

He was moving, and he wasn't exactly sure where he'd found his lost friend, but all of a sudden, it was in his hand, and he drew in a deep breath. Just enough to get him through the day. Just enough...

_Nobody has to know,_ he repeated to himself and slowly brought the blade to a clean expanse of skin just below an area of scars. He pressed down gently. Then just a little harder. Harder. Not enough to draw blood. But enough to feel it. The quick, bittersweet kiss of steel; the rough caress which brought flaws to soft, untouched flesh.

_I am so, so sick,_ his brain whispered, but for some reason, he didn't care.

A knock on the door. Takeru jumped and acted on impulse: dropped the blade, kicked it under the bed, rolled his sleeve down with enough force that it stung. The doorknob twisted and it cracked open before Hikari asked, "Are you decent?"

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed, unable to come up with a better reply. The door widened and Hikari stepped through, smiling until she took in Takeru's anxious expression.

"What's wrong?"

Nothing. Everything. Takeru swallowed nervously. "You startled me, is all. What's up?"

"Your mom is here. She's on her lunch break," she explained. Added, "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Takeru said. "I was just about to head out there anyway. I wasn't taking too long, was I?"

Hikari shook her head. Stared at him knowingly but remained silent for a while. Takeru suddenly felt like he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and he was tempted to spill the truth just because of the look on her face.

Hikari was a mixture of everyone: motherly like Sora; strong and brave like her brother; intelligent like Koushiro; cautious like Jou; sincere like Mimi; calm and collected like Yamato. And yet she was strangely still herself, her own person. Yagami Hikari. Independent and kind, a companion who would always stick by his side, through thick and thin. A person whom he'd considered his best friend. A gentle spirit who permeated light in the darkest of places, but accepted the darkness for what it was.

She was also withdrawn and secretive at times... just like Takeru. Had proven that five days ago, when she'd dragged him away from that damned lake to which Koushiro had accidentally brought them. Memories of years passed poured through his mind like water into a glass: when she was ill the first time she traveled with them to the digital world; her thoughts on the new group of Chosen three and a half years ago; when she'd been chosen as a target by the Dark Ocean...

There was something going on inside that brain of hers, but she simply gazed at him soundlessly, studying him. Then her head tilted to the side, her hair swaying with her movements. She opened her mouth as if to speak, and, afraid of what she was going to say, Takeru shot her the best smile he could.

Pulled his sleeves protectively over his fingers and asked, "So, um, are Ken and Daisuke ready?"

"I think so," she answered, sounding somewhat baffled by his sudden question. "Don't forget your D3."

She pointed at his dresser. Takeru's smile faltered as he realized that grabbing the device—as well as his d-terminal—had slipped his mind, but he hurried to fix his mistake. "Right. Are you ready?"

She nodded, a smile small curving her lips as well. Takeru's grin widened and didn't hesitate to grab her small hand, pulling her out of the bedroom. On the inside, he was screaming—especially when they walked in a conversation between his other friends and his mother. But no one needed to know that.

"...did something happen? In the digital world?" his mom was asking, appearing concerned. When her eyes landed on Takeru, he tried not to wince.

"We were just heading there, actually," Miyako explained easily with a smile that covered the fact that she'd avoided her question. "Did Takeru not tell you, Takaishi-san? Shame on you, Takeru."

Takeru stiffened slightly, feeling his breath hitch in his throat. His mother looked at him once again as Miyako said the words, and she studied him. Hard. A look of motherly concern crossed her features before she smiled tightly and said, "Well, I left early this morning, but you boys were still asleep and I didn't want to wake any of you. Although a note would have been nice if you were going to leave without telling me." She paused and added, "And as much as I adore your friends, it's nice to know when we have guests."

Takeru flinched, scratching the back of his head. A part of him desperately hoped she would drop it and simply enjoy her lunch break. Another part of him wondered if she had heard them at all last night.

He remembered throwing up early this morning. Remembered screaming. Remembered Ken slapping him. Remembered Daisuke and the digimon entering the bathroom with a bunch of questions. Remembered having to follow instructions to learn how to breathe again. And yet it was strangely still a blur, had happened so fast his mind still couldn't grip each detail.

Had she slept through it all? Or had she awoke at some point in the morning, listening and watching, but not saying anything because his friends were present? Takeru desperately hoped against hope that it was the former.

The back of his mind whispered that he shouldn't have even let Daisuke and Ken stay. That it was a risky move. That something would happen, something bad. Did he listen to it? Hell no, he didn't.

Because of childish reasons, too. He'd been so afraid to be alone, had thought that their presence might chase away unpleasant dreams and that lingering sense of panic. But it had only made everything worse, and now he was forced to face the consequences.

The look she shot him told him that they would talk later. That either meant she would actually talk to him, or tell Yamato and his father. It wasn't the first time, after all. He knew that she'd spoken with Yamato about him before—and that hadn't ended on a good note. He shuddered on the inside. Either way, it wasn't a conversation he looked forward to.

He swallowed and then offered a shaky smile. It was something close to a shadow of the one he had shown Hikari, but he couldn't bring himself to give something more. "We better get going, if we want to get to Koushiro's at a reasonable time. Have fun on your lunch break, ok? Bye, Mom."

He kissed her lightly on the cheek and practically ran out the door as soon as he slipped his shoes on, with the others not far behind and Patamon struggling to keep a hold on his customary place on his head.

It was laughable, how fast he moved to avoid the questions. But it didn't matter. What did matter, though, was getting to the digital world.

Maybe he could find an escape, somehow. An escape that didn't include talking. Or spacing out. Or remembering.

Or cutting.

* * *

"Have you seen anything out of the ordinary yet?"

Koushiro shook his head in response to Miyako's hopeful, yet strangely dreadful tone. "No, I have nothing," he admitted reluctantly.

Miyako seemed a little put down by this. She frowned. "Not one thing?"

"I'm sorry," he replied, and leaned back in his desk chair, sighing in frustration. "It's... strange. Usually, when there are digimon attacking the human world, they leave traces of their presence everywhere. But we combed the entire city and were unable to find one thing that links the attack to the digimon we're searching for. It's... it's like some sort of ghost—always hiding in the shadows."

_You don't know the half of it,_ Takeru commented silently, and he preferred to keep it that way.

Hikari sat on Koushiro's bed slowly, elbows on her knees, chin resting in the palm of her hand. "Are you even sure it's a _digimon_ that initiated the attack?"

Oh, no.

Takeru froze. It was an innocuous question, but it held so much meaning, and it made his blood run cold. He was suddenly reminded of how a similar response had slipped from his lips five days prior, and the fact that Hikari was the only one to hear him made him wonder if she'd asked that question on purpose to get his attention or to make him say something of which he had sworn to himself not to speak.

He made the mistake of meeting her eyes. So many emotions swam in her gaze. Worry. Fatigue. Suspicion. Hurt. He looked at his hands instantly, afraid because there was something she _knew_ , but he didn't know what it was.

"What else would it be?" Daisuke asked, interrupting his thoughts with his brows raised. He was leaning against the wall adjacent to Koushiro's desk, arms crossed over his chest. A look of annoyance flitted across his features. "We've dealt with this before," he explained when they all stared at him, "and it's always been some sort of digimon or someone who was under the control of a digimon."

"Whoever it is, I have been having the same issues that Gennai has been having," Koushiro said. "However, I will keep that possibility in mind, Hikari. I suggest that everyone open their brains to it, as well, because..."

"What?" Iori asked as he trailed off, sounding afraid.

"We can take any lead we can get. I can't find anything," Koushiro finished softly, and the look of frustration that crawled across his face as he said the words made Takeru clench his fists.

Koushiro rarely became angry. But the expression on his face said he was ready to burst. Everyone waited with bated breath, and then Koushiro said in a dangerously calm voice: "In the interest of safety, I suggest you all stay in groups of two or more. Do _not_ travel alone. Keep your partners within your line of sight and remain in contact with everyone at all times. Later today, I will be accompanying Taichi and the others to see any clues we can find on Earth. If anyone sees _anything_ that looks suspicious, tell me or Gennai immediately. Does everyone understand?"

Takeru nodded along with everyone else, and they sat silently when Koushiro turned back to his computer to prepare the portal to the digital world. A bright flash of light encompassed them moments later, and they passed through without a word.

* * *

Takeru took several moments to steady himself as they landed. It hadn't been as bad as the last time, but it was fairly easy to lose your balance when every part of you morphed from flesh and blood to data in a matter of seconds. When his mind finally gripped the situation, his hands raced to his head to make sure Patamon was ok, and he was relieved to find that his partner was indeed secure. Slowly, he glanced around to make sure everyone else felt the same.

"Um, guys," Daisuke started uncertainly. "Where are we?"

Miyako glanced around. "Good question."

In front of them, was a vast, open desert-looking place that stretched farther than Takeru could see. Beneath them, the sand wrestled with the wind, and it was hot. _Very_ hot. The sun beat down on them, cruel and unforgiving, with every intention of making each Chosen and their partner miserable.

"A desert?" Hawkmon spoke Takeru's thoughts, his head tilting to one side curiously. "Is this where Koushiro said we'd be?"

"No," Ken answered, sounding every bit confused as everyone else. "He said we should end up where we were last week."

Oh, god. More surprises, and with them came a wave of anxiety. Why couldn't things just go _right_ for once? Was that too much to ask? Takeru's fingers dug into his sleeves, and he knew that it wouldn't be long before the heat started to get to him. He was so goddamn stupid. Hoped desperately—and perhaps foolishly—that no one would notice his choice of clothing.

"...messaging Koushiro right now," Iori was saying, with his d-terminal in his hands. Takeru hadn't even realized that the group began talking. He looked around nervously, but there was no point. Only a bright blue sky and sand returned his gaze.

They stood in silence for about a minute. Takeru usually didn't mind waiting, but when each second felt like hours, it made him feel even more on edge. Especially when Iori said in a somewhat panicked voice: "My message won't go through."

Uh-oh. Miyako's eyes widened in horror, an accurate representation of what Takeru felt inside. "What?"

Iori tilted his head and looked at the lavender-haired girl in a sort of strange way, with his brows knitted together and his lips curved into a solemn frown. "I said—"

"Let's just go back and try again," Daisuke interrupted with a hopeful undertone and turned on his heel to face the direction whence they came. Except his face crumbled immediately, and his lips formed one word that made Takeru feel like his food was coming up to revisit him: "Oh."

There was a television, half-buried in the sand.

Glitching and emitting nothing but static.

"Well, that idea is out the window," Tailmon deadpanned, her tail twitching as she glanced up at Hikari, who Takeru just realized was standing next to him. "What now?"

Hikari blinked owlishly, appearing thoughtful as she glanced around for a second time. "Let's look for another portal."

"You're not even the _least_ bit worried?" Miyako asked. Her tone and expression were the exact opposite of Hikari's: uneasy and afraid.

Takeru knew that being surrounded by a chasm of sand and blistering heat with no idea where to go was definitely not a good thing, and he wondered idly if Hikari was really calm and collected underneath that neutral expression or if panic was feeding on the bottom of her stomach as well.

Takeru swallowed back the lump in his throat, thinking back to when they had met Gennai in the digital world. The portal had brought Gennai straight to them, and even Koushiro couldn't find an explanation for that. So why was it, then, that the portal had brought them here? What was awaiting them now? Something was off, and his gut was telling him that it wasn't going to end well.

Then again, the digital world was many things: and predictable was not one of them. With every turn came an unpleasant surprise; a fact that was proven a thousand times over since his first adventure. None of them could anticipate what was going to come next. Takeru shouldn't have expected something different. Or at least that was what the logical half of his brain told him.

The other half whispered of sickly pale children; of horrendous, bloody nightmares; of threats written in the fog of bathroom mirrors; of blue-lipped smiles and scarred wrists...

Takeru shuddered involuntarily.

"...Hikari's right," he said after a moment, quietly, but still loud enough to capture everyone's attention. When many pairs of eyes landed on him, he explained, "Getting worked up is a waste of time. Remember that the digital world is always changing, so the best thing we can do right now is escape the heat and find another portal."

Everyone stared soundlessly as his words sank in, and within a few moments, Miyako was nodding shakily.

"Ok," she murmured before looking at her partner and asking, "Can you digivolve, Hawkmon?"

Hawkmon chirped an "of course" before he was enveloped in a cocoon of light. Seconds later, Halsemon stood there instead, and Miyako climbed onto her partner with a look of forced determination.

"Well, what are we waiting for?" she asked with a smile that seemed a little fake.

Takeru would be a hypocrite if he called her out on it.

The familiar light of digivolution surrounded all of them within a matter of minutes. Takeru, clinging to Pegasusmon, suddenly found himself in the air, and was squinting to see what lay beyond miles and miles of sand. They moved in silence; the only sound being the loud rustle of the wind whipping against fur and skin and armor and clothes. Takeru was once again reminded of how much he hated the silence.

He didn't know which was worse: drowning in the sea of quiet or the haunting voices that plagued his every thought. They were a constant presence. He was dimly aware of Pegasusmon's frequent, worried glances, of the claws of wind that reached out to roughly caress his face and body. But everything else always became a blur as he became a prisoner to the chasm of a world that existed inside of him.

Last night's conversation played repeatedly in his mind in distorted fragments:

_"We're your friends."_

_"Don't you trust us anymore?"_

_"You can't keep this a secret forever, Takeru."_

_"They deserve the truth."_

"You just don't understand," he whispered aloud to himself.

"Did you say something?"

Takeru shook his head and then remembered Pegasusmon could not see the gesture, and so he said loudly: "It's nothing, buddy."

"If you say so," the mystical digimon replied, but it was obvious he could tell something was up. Of course, his partner knew more details than anyone else did, even if there was so much more that Takeru buried underneath the surface, so he was not surprised. But that piece of knowledge only brought guilt and shame.

_It's not something you'll understand,_ his mind repeated, even though he could feel the walls he had spent so much time building start to tilt inward, threatening to fall. _You'd get hurt. It's... it's hopeless to even attempt to explain._

As the words crossed his mind, Pegasusmon became a ball of blinding light. Takeru released the digimon's mane to block his eyes from the unpleasant sensation, and the overwhelming feeling of dread and despair were so deep that it seemed they had been permanently woven into his chest. He was falling. Down, down, down he went...

"TAKERU!"

Before his body could collide with scalding-hot sand, hands grabbed at him. Pulled hard. He heard Patamon's weak echo of his name, and he blinked several times, disoriented, realizing that Hikari and Nefertimon had caught him. Why... why had Patamon devolved?

"Are you ok?" Hikari asked instantly, the worry in her voice an open sea that reached out to drag him under.

He wasn't. He really, really wasn't. It was hot and he was tired and scared and so, so alone. The truth did not leave his mouth, however; bubbled up in the back of his throat and remained there like a cancerous lump. But soon Nefertimon touched the ground, and his friends were closing in on him.

"I'm fine," he murmured, his gaze wandering elsewhere. That look had returned in Hikari's eyes, and his bricks were threatening to topple over one another. His walls were bending. Bending. Bending.

"Yeah, sure." Daisuke's voice dripped with sarcasm, and he sounded concerned and angry at the same time. "To hell with that, Takeru. We need to talk. _Now._ "

Breaking.


	15. Hush, Hush

"The higher I get, the lower I sink. I can't drown my demons; they know how to swim." — Can You Feel My Heart, Bring Me the Horizon

* * *

**Ch 15 || Hush, Hush**

The air around two young twins contorted and twisted before their feet ghosted against the concrete floor of their master's chambers. It was dark, but the darkness was never something that bothered Saya. Not even when a dangerously powerful being sat, hiding in the cold embrace of the shadows, in the corner of the room, drumming gloves fingertips against the arm of his chair.

"They are onto him, Master."

Already positioned in a bow, Saya did not move to see the expression on her master's face as her brother's words echoed around them. Her eyes remained on the floor, careful not to move a muscle.

She could hear the smirk in her master's voice when he murmured, "I'm not surprised. Do you not remember my first warning?"

Saya nodded but said nothing. He repeated it anyway: "They are a strong team. When one wavers, another is there to catch them before they truly fall." Then, when Saya remained silent: "Is there something you want to add?"

She remembered how easily the keeper of Hope had slipped away from his group of friends and wondered briefly if her master was right when he said that he would be hard to break. So far, it had not seemed hard. Had got him to crack several times. Oh, how fun that had been. She would never admit this doubt out loud, of course.

Painted on an expressionless mask, even if the shadows hid her features from him. One could never be too careful. "No, Master."

Sakauchi, however, dared to grin. Maybe it was just her, but she thought it looked foreign on his face. "His bond with the other Chosen Children is slowly breaking... and it is his own doing. I doubt he even realizes that he is doing it."

"Good. You know what do next, my dears."

He gazed up at the both of them then, but only half of his face was visible. A satisfied, crooked grin was the only thing she could catch a glimpse of before her master added, "I trust you two won't disappoint me."

Saya risked a glance at her brother and saw that he was dropping to one knee, head still bowed. She mimicked his actions instantly, barely half a second behind.

"Of course, Master," they replied in perfect unison before Saya reached for her brother's hand and the air around them distorted once again.

* * *

The knot in Takeru's throat tightened when he met Daisuke's fiery gaze. He opened his mouth several times, but no noise came out, even when Daisuke's eyebrows shot up quizzically.

"Well?" Daisuke prompted with more delicacy than before. "Are you going to explain?"

"Please don't start this, Daisuke," Takeru begged, half because he didn't know _how_ to explain, and half because he wanted to clean up this mess before it spiraled out of control. He knew too well that Daisuke wasn't one to back off so easily, but he hoped that just this once, he would listen. "You don't know what you're asking."

"I'm pretty sure I do," Daisuke replied, his eyes darkening slightly as he spoke. "What happened just now? Why did Pegasusmon revert back to Patamon?"

Takeru looked back at the mentioned digimon, who had somehow found himself in Iori's arms, and Takeru noticed that his partner looked just as shaken-up as he felt. Guilt pricked its needles into his skin, almost as powerful as the hopelessness that had so quickly constructed a home in his stomach.

Takeru did his best to shrug it off. Pretended it wasn't there. Carefully, he walked over to the younger boy and allowed Patamon to crawl tiredly into his hands. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"I'm alright," Patamon assured slowly. But the solemnity in his gaze spoke louder than his words, and Takeru's stomach churned when Patamon added, "I should be asking you that. I could feel you wavering."

It was Hikari's turn to look at him suspiciously. "What does that mean, Takeru?"

"I—" He stopped, unsure of what to say. Eventually mumbled, "I don't know."

But he did. The intense look on Patamon's did not fade, telling him that the digimon could still feel it. Underneath that stern expression, however, was fatigue; and Takeru realized that the despair that latched onto him was a parasite that was draining both of them.

Inwardly, Takeru drew in a deep breath. Pushed it down. Further. Further. Painted on something that resembled sanity so no one could tell how loudly he was screaming on the inside. Maybe it wasn't too late to turn this around.

"Do you think you could try again?" he asked, purposely ignoring the looks of confusion he received from his teammates. Patamon nodded quietly, and Takeru's D3 exploded into light, drowning out any kind of darkness that threatened to overtake him.

"Takeru, wait for a second," Daisuke said, reaching out to grasp his arm. "You haven't started talking yet."

"There's nothing to talk about," he answered softly, and it was far from the truth. He shrugged away from his friend's outstretched hand anyway, putting himself at arm's length as the light from his digivice died. "Patamon is fine."

"Then why..." Miyako started but appeared as though she wasn't even sure what she was going to ask. Finally, she inquired in a whisper: "Why are you acting so weird?"

"I'm not acting weird."

"Would cut the crap already?" Daisuke said heatedly, and before Takeru knew it, there were hands on his chest, pushing him back. He stumbled slightly into the sand, barely keeping his balance, but Daisuke continued as if he didn't even notice: "You _are_ acting weird! You've been spacey and distant ever since we saw Gennai. Probably before this. You won't tell anyone what's up, or if there's something you know about why the digital world is so out of whack. And Ken said that something happened at that lake we went to all those weeks ago. And the only reason we know that you're having nightmares is—"

"Shut up," Takeru snapped instantly, suddenly wild-eyed. Didn't notice that Patamon had left his arms until he finally pushed Daisuke back with just as much force as Daisuke had used. "Just shut up!"

"No, I won't," Daisuke said sharply. "You—"

It was Ken who shushed him. Lighdramon was even trying to calm him down, pressing up against him and speaking in hushed whispers, but it was too late. The damage was already done.

"You've been having... nightmares?" Hikari whispered, and when Takeru glanced in her direction, he felt his heart sink. The hurt reflecting in her eyes was strong enough to leave an ache in his chest. "About what?"

He deflated, shoulders drooping. The anger that had started to build within him quickly dissipated, and he felt suddenly shameful. Scared. Like he was being attacked. By his friends. By his secrets. By his thoughts. By his emotions.

"Takeru..." Patamon settled back into his arms instantly, seemingly ignoring the way his sleeves stuck to his skin, his voice a low whisper. But Takeru didn't look at him.

"You said you weren't going to tell," he murmured to Ken, feeling betrayed.

Everyone's eyes shifted from Takeru to him. Ken looked torn for a moment, and Stingmon said sympathetically, "We only want to help—"

"That's what you don't understand—you _can't_ help," he blurted. "There's nothing you can do! You have to believe me when I say that what you all don't know could _kill everyone!_ "

Silence. It seeped around them like blood, thick and terrifying, and Takeru's eyes popped wide as slowly became aware of what he had just said. He sucked in a sharp breath, and everything that he had tried to ignore tumbled unbidden onto his shoulders:

The heat. It reached out and swallowed him, drenching him in a layer of sweat. His shirt was sticking to his back. All of his friends' faces were flushed and sweaty as well, showing him that he wasn't the only one affected by the weather. Long-sleeves wasn't a good choice, his brain had said. His scars told him otherwise, and the last thing he wanted was for people to see how pathetic he'd become.

_"Are you really going to sleep in that?"_

_"It might get hot, is all."_

Gennai's meeting. God, they had all went back to that damned lake, and what the hell had Ken told Daisuke? That first day replayed nonstop in his brain, an unwanted, eerie lullaby stuck on repeat. A constant reminder of the chaos that had become his life.

_"I understand that you've been hurt, Yamato."_

_"Can you tell me what happened?"_

His brother and how the children had caused him to sprain his ankle. And he'd done his best to keep Yamato out of it, but he'd ended up getting hurt again, and no one knew why. But dozens of warnings he'd received in the past few weeks echoed in Takeru's head, and he was pretty damn sure he knew who had caused Yamato's pain.

_"How long have you been having nightmares, Takeru?"_

_"Why didn't you tell anyone?"_

Those horrific dreams. Daisuke had just blurted that out in front of everyone, and now people knew more than they were supposed to, and secrets kept them safe, but it wasn't a secret anymore, and he'd just compromised their lives—

"...what do you mean by that?" Iori asked quietly, cutting off Takeru's frantic thoughts.

"Nothing," Takeru answered hastily, even though he knew that there was no way to take what he had said back. But there was a familiar burn in his eyes that foretold tears, and he just wanted to escape. They had come here to find answers, not more questions to ask. "Let's get out of here. It's too hot for this."

"But I don't understand—" Miyako started, sounding afraid.

"I'm not asking you to understand," Takeru interrupted suddenly and it was way too true. "I'm asking you to trust me." Drew in a shaky breath. "We just need to focus on getting out of here. I'll... I'll explain everything later."

Or would he? It would suffice, for now, he thought, swallowing nervously. It was what they wanted to hear, and what was wrong with buying time?

For a while, no one spoke. Takeru didn't really expect them to, but their silence still made him nervous. "Please," he whispered, clutching Patamon closer to him and looking down to see his expression. The little guy appeared heartbroken but nodded grimly.

"I'll always trust you," Patamon said.

He stiffened when a pair of arms wrapped around him, one around his shoulder, and the other around his waist.

"Ok," Hikari murmured, squeezing him gently but careful not to disturb Patamon. "I trust you, Takeru."

"That goes for me, as well," Nefertimon said with absolute certainty. She smiled tenderly at him.

"I trust you, too," came Iori's small voice, and, still shocked by Hikari's sudden embrace, Takeru barely had time to respond before Stingmon and Lighdramon chimed, "Me, too."

Their responses were echoed by Miyako, Digmon, and Halsemon. Daisuke glanced at a troubled-looking Ken before Ken nodded, and he sighed, wiping sweat from his brow. "I trust you, too, man. I'm sorry that I pushed you like that. S'too hot to be fighting."

Takeru nodded as a way of accepting the apology, releasing Patamon tenderly so he could return Hikari's hug. Really considered telling the truth, shedding all of this information that he'd been hiding. Would... would it be so bad? Didn't they deserve to know? Part of him said yes, but no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't listen to that voice. Wouldn't.

Rested his chin on Hikari's shoulder, ignoring the stray tear that cascaded down the curve of his cheek. Despite the heat, he found the gesture comforting, and for a moment, Takeru allowed himself to feel safe. Secure. Weightless.

That moment ended as quickly as it started.

It happened suddenly. The ground beneath them trembled violently, causing all of them to lose their balance. Hikari stumbled backward. He slammed against the body of a digimon—had it been Stingmon or Digmon? He wasn't even sure; the sand blocked his vision—and he heard the others cry out as they all fell to the ground.

"Wh-what's going on?" Miyako cried out, but her question was never answered.

A small distance away, his partner called out his name. Takeru blinked, hissing as he shook scalding-hot grains of sand off his hands to wipe his eyes. The sudden movement had made him dizzy, and he tried his best to find Patamon.

Then a shrill cry sliced through the air, so suddenly and loudly that Takeru felt a cold shudder rip through his spine despite the blistering heat.

A Snimon, sounding dangerously angry, climbed its way out of the sand, and if he hadn't been struck by a wave of fear, he would have wondered what a Snimon was doing in the sand in the first place.

"How the hell...?" Daisuke trailed off, sounding horrified as well.

Takeru ignored him. He cupped his hands over his mouth, shouting Patamon's name again; and when he stood up, his legs wouldn't hold him, so he fell again, face-first into the chasm of sand. His hands shook as he pulled himself back up, and he spat several times to get the nasty taste out of his mouth.

It wasn't long before everyone else's partners were fighting back. Light exploded above them in a clash of attacks between his friends and Snimon. But Patamon wasn't up there. Wasn't anywhere to be found. Takeru's vision swam and he tried once again to find Patamon's small form. Was vaguely aware that everyone else was away from the desert floor, protected by their digimon.

Where was Patamon? Damn it, where was his best friend? He was so small, and this desert was so huge. A flurry of orange was all he asked for, some sort of sign that hinted him in on the child-level digimon's whereabouts.

"Patamon," he repeated, and his voice was drowned out by the noise around him but he tried again anyway, looking around hurriedly.

Air was swiped from his lungs as he was swooped up by something sharp, and then his back hit the sand again. He coughed, and barely had time to register what was going on before the world became a blur of blue and tan, of sky and sand. Felt something grasp his foot, and then he was being dragged. His cry for help was muffled.

It was hot. Too, too hot. Every part of him burned, and he couldn't breathe. The sand climbed inside his clothes, wrapped around his arms, his legs, his torso, his neck. Darkness edged into his vision, slowly eating away at the blue.

Once again he was falling, but this time, it wasn't from the sky. Was drowning in the sand; into blackness. He screamed. Screamed. But it was as though his voice had been muted.

"Takeru," someone called out. "Takeru, take my hand!"

He reached blindly, but he had no idea which direction the voice was coming from, so he withdrew, scared and uncertain. Called out as loud as he could, "Patamon!"

"I'm right here, Takeru. I'm right here. Follow my voice!"

That wasn't him. He coughed again, sputtering. Shouted in a wavering voice: "I c-can't find Patamon!"

Fingers dusted against his own. It hurt, but before he could even voice the pain, he was being hauled upward for the second time that day.

It happened so fast that Takeru wasn't even sure if he remembered everything correctly. The buzzing of wings reached his ears instantly, and it was still way too hot. He saw a blur of everyone: of Hikari and Nefertimon, of Daisuke and Lighdramon, of Ken and Stingmon, of Miyako and Halsemon. He was in Digmon's arms, next to Iori.

But he still did not see Patamon.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the only thing that was released was another hoarse cough. Iori rubbed his back the best he could while being held by an insectoid digimon, but it did little to soothe him.

"P-Patamon's not... h-here," he croaked, feeling his eyes grow wet. He screwed them shut, hoping to dispel the sensation.

"Hush, hush, little boy Hope. Don't fret. He is fine."

Smug. Condescending. Horrifyingly familiar. A rope of ice-cold wind followed the words, forcing Takeru to pry his eyes open again.

He felt horror ricochet through his body as he met the soulless gaze of a boy whom he knew far too well. But it wasn't the boy he was scared of. He was petrified because a very limp Patamon, eyes closed, was locked in place in his arms.

Everything else faded into the background. Voices became hushed, and the only thing Takeru could see was his partner's motionless, bruised body. Especially when an all-too-familiar girl suddenly appeared next to the sickly pale child and asked, "What should we do with him, brother?"

"He'll be coming with me for a little bit," the boy announced with a sadistic grin. Takeru's lips moved, but the boy raised his hand. "Nuh, uh, uh. Wouldn't want me to drop him, would you?"

Before Takeru could utter a word, the boy added, "Oh, you can go home now, by the way," and both children blinked out of existence. Patamon disappeared as well.

The world around them contorted. More than one person screamed, and Takeru felt nauseous when he flipped and twisted, as though he were on a rollercoaster. His stomach lurched, and maybe he was screaming, too, but he couldn't remember. Things around him morphed. Merged. Spun around and around.

He was burning, and yet he was freezing. It was too fast, too sudden, too sharp, too—

And the next thing he knew, his shoulder was connecting with the hard, hard floor.

Everything went mute and dark for several moments, and pain attacked his temples when he heard something that sounded strangely like his name. He blinked dazedly, trying to push himself up, but agony stopped him.

"Shh... hold still, Takeru. Hold still," a calm voice kept repeating, and it was familiar, but his hazy mind couldn't put a name to it.

Where was he? He coughed—a dry, hoarse cough that burned his chest—and gradually, _gradually_ , the room around him stopped spinning. He was dizzy and hot; oh, so, so hot. Blinked again when dark eyes stared worriedly into his.

"Don't move too much," Jou said gently, resting his hands on his back as he helped him sit up. "You hit the ground pretty hard."

"Wh-where are we?" he choked out, his voice scratchy.

"We're back at Koushiro's," Daisuke's voice sounded somewhere close to him. Takeru looked up cautiously, saw him pouring sand out of his shoe and into a small waste bucket. "I don't know how, but—"

"Patamon," he whispered, his eyes popping wide. "They've got Patamon. They've got him. I c-can't believe they got him..."

Some sort of sound slipped past his lips. Maybe a sob; he wasn't sure. Stood on tremoring legs, ignoring Jou and Koushiro when they told him to sit back down, and looked around frantically.

It was true. They had somehow ended up back at Koushiro's. Everyone looked pretty beat up: sweaty, flushed, covered in sand, and would probably be sporting more than a few bruises before the end of the day. But the pain he had felt seconds before suddenly dulled as he thought about Patamon's motionless form cradled in that boy's arms.

"Takeru—" Hikari started, reaching for his hand, but he backed away. Hit the wall, hard.

This was all his fault. He'd opened his big mouth, and now Patamon was forced to face the consequences.

"I've got to go back," he muttered, pulling at his hair. Sand was pooling below him, but he didn't care. "I've gotta go save him."

His legs moved, and people shouted at him but he didn't listen. Had to get out of here. Had to find his best friend before those children hurt him like they did his Onii-san. Started to choke on the idea that Patamon might already be hurt.

_Oh, god, what have I done?_

He was already out the door and just about to descend a set of stairs when someone pulled at his wrist. "Takeru, listen to me. You're hurt and you need medical attention—"

Jou stopped cold, and Takeru whirled around to face him, to tell him off, to break away. Didn't want to be followed. But Takeru's eyes found what had caused Jou to trail off, and they widened again in horror.

"Your... your arm..." Jou muttered, looking back up at Takeru's face in confusion and concern.

Takeru yanked away with the remaining strength he had in him, fixed his sleeve, and did the only thing he could think of.

Run.


	16. Lost Pieces

"Monsters and bed sheets to creep while underneath my bed; it hears me speak about these problems I've yet to find, these monsters read my mind with ears and eyes to paralyze demise." — Start to Fall, Get Scared

* * *

**Ch 16 || Lost Pieces**

Koushiro's bedroom door clicked shut. He focused his attention on the ashen-looking young boy standing there and knew from Iori's expression alone that things were not well.

"Jou chased after him," Iori said quietly, eyes downcast. "He told me to come back here. Said we should phone Yamato and wait here."

Daisuke was already slipping his shoes back on. "Like hell, we're going to wait here. We'd find him faster if more than one person searched. He can't have gone too far." He stood hastily. Grabbed Chibomon gently before making his way toward the exit. The door slammed aggressively before anyone could voice their disapproval, and more than one person winced from the sound.

"I'll go make sure Daisuke doesn't get _himself_ lost," Ken said after a moment's pause, clutching Minomon tightly to his chest as he spoke.

Hikari reached her feet without hesitation, brushing herself off. "I'm coming, too."

"No, wait," Tailmon said immediately, appearing exhausted as she stepped in Hikari's path. "You're injured. You're in no condition to go after Takeru."

It was true. Iori's clothes were decidedly torn up, but other than looking incredibly shaken, Koushiro deemed him and Miyako alright. Ken appeared mostly unscathed, but Hikari was not so lucky—her lip was bleeding and multiple scratches and cuts littered her legs and arms. After studying her more intently, Koushiro noticed the bruise that was beginning to form on her left cheek. Oh, Taichi was not going to be happy.

"Tailmon is right," Koushiro said finally, vigilantly making his way toward the brunette. "I believe our best option is for you to remain here for the time being until I get Yamato or Taichi on the phone."

"I don't care if I'm _dying_ —Takeru is my best friend and I'm going to find him before he does something stupid," Hikari snapped heatedly, but the anger in her voice quickly dissolved as tears gathered in her eyes. Her shoulders trembled but she clenched her fists. "He's hurt. I have to stop him."

An awkward silence crawled into the room uninvited and made itself at home. Koushiro pursed his lips, releasing a low breath of frustration and resisted the urge to rub his temples. This day could not get any worse.

"Your brother would have my head if he knew I let you go out there looking like this," Koushiro muttered eventually, and even he knew that it was far from reassuring, but it was the truth. "I understand that you are upset, but I need you to stay here and keep calm. Can you do that, Hikari?"

She appeared reluctant for several heartbeats. Her lip quivered but her gaze remained solid and defiant. Then, after a few moments, her shoulders slumped and she sighed in defeat.

"Ok," she whispered in a small voice.

"Good." Koushiro exhaled once again, slowly. "Ken, please, if you find Takeru, send a message. Once you catch up with Daisuke, stay together. Alright?"

Ken nodded without question and booked out of the apartment quickly and quietly. Koushiro definitely was not the kind of person to play leader, but he could at least try to persuade everyone to remain calm.

He trekked back to his desk and picked up his cell phone, attempting to keep a level head as well. But it wasn't every day that a powerful rift manifested itself in the middle of his room and spit out six sweaty kids, knocking almost all of them unconscious for several minutes.

Koushiro was not someone who was surprised easily when it came to traveling to different dimensions or encountering strange, inhuman creatures, but he had definitely not expected that.

He found Taichi's number first and pressed the call button. As it began to ring, he exited his room in favor of the bathroom, where his parents kept the first-aid supplies.

"Moshi, moshi," came Taichi's voice after the third ring, just as Koushiro opened a cabinet opposite of the sink.

"Taichi, is Yamato with you?" he inquired without hesitation, pulling out a small box of bandages, some aspirin, and a half-full bottle of rubbing alcohol. It wasn't much, but it would, hopefully, provide some semblance of help and relief.

There was a pause that was most likely born from confusion. "Um, yeah, we were just heading to your apartment so we could discuss—"

"Forget that," he interrupted, keeping his voice urgent and clipped. "Let me speak to him, please. It's important."

Immediately, there was shuffling on the other side. Hushed voices. Then, in a low, eerily calm voice: "What is it, Koushiro?"

Oh, boy. Koushiro suddenly paused, attempting to gather his bearings as a wave of uncertainty swept through him. He was already aware that he was on Yamato's bad side, and he knew that being the one to tell him that his precious little brother was now missing—and injured, no less—was not going to earn any brownie points.

"Um," he started uneasily, propping his cell between his cheek and his shoulder as he steadied the supplies in his hands. "Yamato, you're not going to like this."

"What is it?" Yamato repeated slowly.

"The others returned from the digital world in an abnormal way," he explained, before drawing himself up to his full height. "I don't know exactly what happened, but some of them are pretty beat up. The ones that concern me the most are Hikari and your brother. They're... Hikari is bleeding and Takeru is—"

"Let me talk to him."

Uh-oh. Koushiro inhaled slowly through his nose, swallowing heavily. "You can't. He, um. He ran off."

"He _what?_ "

Koushiro struggled to keep his grip of the bandages he'd been holding as Yamato's voice rose into an aggressive shout. He winced, nearly dropping his phone as well. "Yamato—"

"You're telling me my little brother is hurt and you let him _run off_ into the city? How could you?! How badly is he hurt? Did he break any bones? Was he bleeding?"

"I... I can't be sure," he admitted honestly. "Once he regained consciousness, he started panicking and Patamon didn't return with him—"

"Wait." Yamato's voice became frantic. "Patamon's missing, too? What the hell does that mean? Where is he?"

"I'm not sure," Koushiro repeated uncertainly. "Listen—"

"No, Koushiro, you listen to me," Yamato hissed suddenly. "You tell me exactly where Takeru ran off to, or I swear to whatever entity that is up there that I will make sure you never sleep at night ever again."

That was cold, brotherly concern talking, Koushiro told himself. The side of Yamato that was unleashed when his family was in danger. Koushiro sighed once again, mulling over his next response. He knew there was nothing he said would put Yamato at ease, especially since Takeru was involved. But he needed to at least make an attempt.

Finally, he said, "You're angry, Yamato. I know that. But just _listen_ , ok? You can threaten me all you like. You can even throw a few punches at me once you see me if that will make you feel better. But I've told you all I know because this literally just happened _five minutes ago._ Jou, Ken, and Daisuke chased after him. I have no idea where he's headed, but at least believe that they're trying to find him."

There was silence on the other side. When Yamato never attempted to speak, Koushiro continued: "I'm aware that you're still injured, too, but I can't stop you if you want to search for your brother as well. Although I'd advise Taichi to at least stop by because Hikari is pretty torn up. Once they're all calmed down, I'm going to see if I can get an explanation out of any of them as to what went on while they were in the digital world."

Still, Koushiro did not receive a reply. Then, after several achingly long moments, Yamato murmured in a tight voice, "Right. I'm sorry." A small sigh. "If... if Patamon really is missing, I'd imagine that he's not thinking straight. I'm going to look for him, but Taichi and Sora should be there in a few minutes. We're getting ready to go in Dad's van."

"Alright," Koushiro murmured. "Be careful."

"We will." Hesitantly: "Thanks, Koushiro."

The call ended with a click before Koushiro could respond, and he pursed his lips. Resumed his trek back to his bedroom where three kids were, still confused and decidedly scared. He placed the supplies he'd gathered on his bed, where Miyako was seated.

"That went well," he muttered under his breath with a sarcastic undertone, before facing and addressing Hikari: "You have a bruise on your cheek. Did you fall at any point, before ending up here? Did you hit your head?"

"I... I don't know," she answered, appearing troubled. "It all happened so fast—"

"I know." Koushiro once again fought to urge to grip his temples, biting the inside of his lip. "Taichi is on his way, I believe. I... I don't have a lot, but hopefully, this will hold you over until then."

Hikari studied the bottle of aspirin for a moment. "I don't think I need medication, Koushiro."

"Your appearance says otherwise," Koushiro said, which made Hikari's face flush slightly. He paid no heed. "Judging by the number of scratches and bruises with which you've returned, I'd say you're going to be sore by tomorrow morning."

"There's no problem with being cautious," Tentomon added.

Hikari nodded quietly and obeyed Tailmon when she told her to take a seat next to Miyako. After a moment, Koushiro collapsed into his office chair and suddenly realized that he had little training in the medical field despite all of the knowledge he'd acquired over the years. He was only sixteen, anyway, and the only one whom he knew was capable of properly checking Hikari over was chasing down another teammate.

For all Koushiro knew, she could have hit her head. He didn't want to be the one held responsible if he told her she was fine when she wasn't. And any pain she was feeling was sure to intensify once the adrenaline wore off. He couldn't even imagine what Takeru was going to feel later.

Damn it, Taichi and Yamato were going to kill him.

He rubbed his eyes tiredly. He wasn't usually the kind of person to let fatigue get the best of him, but this day was not going in the direction he'd hoped for. "Perhaps we should take you to the hospital and have Taichi meet us there."

Hikari's eyes widened. "There's no need for that," she argued instantly, frowning. "I'll be ok."

"Here, let me take a look at you," Miyako said, carefully grasping Hikari's chin and meeting her eyes. After a few moments, she frowned. "It's just a small cut; you shouldn't worry too much. Iori, can you hand me that box of tissues?"

Iori complied, remaining oddly quiet. Koushiro never questioned it. Instead, he turned around to face his computer, moving the mouse around to wake it up. Checked his email. There was nothing there except Ken letting him know that he'd met up with Daisuke, which frustrated him a little, but he knew there was nothing he could do.

"This might sting a little," Miyako was murmuring, and when Koushiro turned back around, he saw that she was wiping Hikari's chin carefully. If the action hurt, Hikari did a wonderful job concealing her pain. "I don't think she needs a hospital visit, Koushiro. Besides, you know Hikari. You're pretty tough, aren't you? A little blood never scared you before."

He prayed Miyako was right. Or perhaps she was just extremely brave. Regardless, her encouraging words seemed to ease the tension building in Hikari's muscles. A tiny, sad smile graced her lips. "Thanks, Miyako." Then there was a pause and a small, soft intake of breath. "...it's Takeru who worries me. Patamon means everything to him, and... and now..."

"Those two are pretty good about getting everyone worked up over them, huh?" Tailmon said airily as if to herself. "That boy, I swear. I'm going to kill him _and_ Patamon for thinking they need to hide everything from everyone."

"Once they find them," Miyako murmured under her breath.

"Where do you think Patamon is?" Iori whispered to her, sounding fearful. "He disappeared so quickly."

Koushiro suddenly felt wide-awake and leaned forward, blinking curiously at the three of them. "What exactly happened while you were in the digital world?"

All of those present save for him and Tentomon became incredibly still. Iori looked down at his socks. Hikari's small smile disappeared and Miyako suddenly clenched her fists. These were all signs that told Koushiro that whatever had occurred was not good, and he drew in a deep breath.

"Look," he started vigilantly, "I'm sure whatever it was isn't something anyone wants to speak of, but you all know how dire the situation is at the moment. We need any kind of lead we can get. Can you at least share the name of what it was that attacked you?"

The three and their digimon were quiet once more. Finally, Iori began hesitantly, "A Snimon. There was only one. But Takeru said 'they' took Patamon."

Koushiro's eyes widened slightly. "Who are 'they'?"

Iori shrugged, still refusing to look at him. "I don't know. That's just what he said before he ran off."

"Where were you at?" Tentomon asked. "Before Patamon went missing, that is."

"A desert," Tailmon answered.

"What?" Koushiro's voice rose without his consent. "How did you end up there? Why didn't you contact me?"

"That would explain the sand," Tentomon commented but was ignored.

"We tried," Miyako told him. "Our d-terminals wouldn't work. Hikari suggested we just look for another portal so we could just head back to Earth, but then..." She trailed off, unexpectedly hesitant once again. Koushiro quietly prompted her to continue, but before she could, someone started pounding on the door.

At least his parents weren't home, the back of Koushiro's mind thought as he instantly stood to answer it. When he did, Taichi came barreling in without even bothering to kick off his shoes, looking disheveled and extremely worried. He'd been so surprised by his aggression that he barely noticed Sora, Agumon, and Piyomon step in as well.

"Where's Hikari?" he asked instantly, brushing past his younger friend. "Where is she? Yamato said she was hurt—"

When he made it to Koushiro's bedroom, he stopped dead in the doorway. As Koushiro carefully slid around him, he saw the color drain from Taichi's face.

The expression that painted his features was one that Koushiro hadn't seen since they'd first received the message from Gennai, and years before that. There was no doubt that the sight of his sister, cut up and bruised, tore him apart. The room was also a bit of a mess, considering they all had been caked with sand when they fell from the portal.

Instantly, Taichi was on the other side of the room, ignoring the pools of sand underneath him and pulling Hikari to her feet. "Are you alright? Tell me what hurts. You didn't hit your head or anything, did you? Oh, damn it, you're even pale—"

"Onii-san, I'm _fine_ ," Hikari interrupted in a firm voice. "It's just a few scratches."

"You're bleeding," Taichi murmured as he grabbed his sister's chin and brought it upward in a similar fashion that Miyako had five minutes earlier.

"I _was_ bleeding," she corrected. "Miyako helped clean it up. Seriously, Onii-san, I'm ok." She even smiled a little after speaking as if to emphasize her point. As if the previous conversation with Koushiro had not happened. But the gesture was strained. Koushiro absently noted how easily she switched from scared and vulnerable to stubborn and steady.

(She was Taichi's sister, alright.)

Sora rested a hand on Taichi's shoulder in an effort to soothe him. "Calm down, Taichi. You should let her go before you bruise her up even more."

Taichi's face became a soft shade of pink and he released his sister instantly. Sighed heavily. "Sorry, it's just... I know how dangerous the digital world is, and to find out that you were suddenly attacked, and Patamon is..."

"I know," Hikari whispered, the smile falling from her face. She turned to Koushiro, concern burning in her eyes. "Is there any word on Takeru?"

"Yamato just left with his dad to see if they could find him a few minutes ago," Taichi answered before Koushiro had a chance to reply. "Yamato even tried calling him. Three times, I think. But he didn't answer."

Koushiro raced to his computer to check his email, but there was still nothing. Checked his cell next. Then his d-terminal. Repeated the process as if that would change the results. It didn't.

"Nothing," he admitted regretfully, but his eyes never left his computer screen.

"None of you messaged him on his d-terminal?" Sora asked with a hopeful undertone.

"Already did," Miyako replied. "No answer."

"What about his D3?" Piyomon inquired.

Everyone quieted. Hikari shared a look with Iori and Miyako. All three of them pulled out their D3s and studied them for a few moments. Then Hikari said, "There's no signal."

"Not even from Ken or Daisuke," Miyako added quietly.

"That's strange," Koushiro murmured, placing a curled finger under his chin. Refreshed the page on his computer with his free hand, and then glanced back at his d-terminal out of habit. Frowned again when nothing popped up.

"Whatever the case, there isn't much we can do," Sora said, and even though no one wanted to admit it, it was true. "We're just going to have to wait."

Taichi sighed after hearing this and sat down in the space which Hikari had previously occupied on Koushiro's bed. He stared at the ceiling with an unreadable expression. "Yeah." His voice was oddly strained. "But for what?"

Hikari's eyes darkened with worry. "For Takeru to come back."

"If he comes back," Iori muttered.

Taichi sat up immediately, an action that startled at least half of those present. His eyes narrowed. "What do you mean by that?"

Once again, the young boy fell silent. His shoulders lifted in a shrug, but he didn't look up to meet Taichi's gaze. Koushiro, too, peered curiously at Iori and saw that the two girls were questionably stiff and quiet.

"Hey." Sora's voice was soft as she leaned in front of Iori, her eyes gentle. "What do you mean, Iori?"

"While we were there, Daisuke pushed him," Tailmon answered when Iori hesitated. "They got into a bit of a fight. He kept asking for information. Takeru said... Takeru said what we don't know could get everybody killed."

There was a long, uncomfortable pause as her words sank in. Koushiro's eyes widened, and there was a collective intake of breath. Koushiro did not scare easily but fear pulsed through him as that one sentence echoed endlessly in his brain.

It was insensitive, he knew, but his first thought was, _Takeru knows something. He_ knows _something. But what?_

"You didn't see his face after I pulled him out of the sand," Iori muttered, pulling his knees to his chest as he spoke. "He kept calling for Patamon, and then... and then he was staring off into space. Like there was something there, and only he could see it." He shuddered, looking incredibly disturbed. "I've never seen him look so horrified."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back up a second," Taichi demanded, looking at each of the younger kids, one at a time. His eyes were slowly filling with disbelief and panic. "He said we'd be _killed?_ "

"Yeah," Upamon murmured and looked at his partner with concern. "Iori—"

"There _had_ to be something there," he interrupted in a small voice. "There had to be."

Koushiro pursed his lips, thinking. His mind raced endlessly, question after unanswered question popping up in his head. He turned back around so he was facing his laptop, fingers poised over his mousepad. But what was he going to do? Takeru was who knew where; he'd definitely proven that sending a message was futile. He hadn't heard from Ken in over twenty minutes. Jou had yet to get back to him. And Yamato... he was most likely sick with worry.

The sudden sound of a phone ringing startled everyone in the room, including the person to whom the device belonged. It was on the fourth ring that Koushiro finally realized that it was his.

"Moshi, moshi," he said instantly in greeting and felt his eyes pop when Yamato's voice, breathless and frantic, sounded on the other line.

"Jou and I found him."

Koushiro straightened his spine. "Where was he? Where are you guys now?"

"That's not important." Clipped. Short. Then: "I'm gonna take him home, ok? Just let everyone know he's alright."

"Why not come back here? We have questions—"

"Not _now_ , Koushiro," Yamato interrupted. "He's a mess. Won't even let us take him to the hospital. The last thing he needs is a bunch of people on his case, especially with Patamon gone."

"Ok." After a pause: "What do you want me to tell everyone?"

In a strained voice, he repeated, "They can just head home. I'm just going to take him back to Dad's and stay with him for the night. Patamon is his best friend, and now he's gone, and Takeru won't even tell me what happened. You can ask Jou for details later, but Takeru... he probably needs some space. How would you feel if Tentomon suddenly disappeared?"

Koushiro was unprepared for such a question, and without realizing it, his gaze landed on the robotic digimon he so fondly called his partner. Tentomon was seated on his desk next to the computer expert's laptop, staring at him silently and curiously. The thought of even coming close to losing him caused an unpleasant ache to bloom in his chest, and he swallowed thickly.

"...I see," he murmured, and even though he wasn't pleased with Yamato's answer, he had enough sense to know that what he was saying was true. He did not want to imagine what Takeru was going through. "Alright. But there's something you should know, Yamato."

"Look, I don't have time to talk right now," Yamato replied in a haste. "I gotta get him home. He's covered in bruises and I think he has some burns, too. Dad's already worried as hell and I gotta find out how to explain this to Mom without her freaking out, so we'll pick this up tomorrow, ok?"

"But—"

The line went dead before Koushiro could argue. With a frustrated sigh, he flipped his phone shut and wiped his face with tired hands.

"Well?" Taichi pressed instantly, pinning Koushiro with a curious and impatient stare.

"Yamato said everyone just needs to go home and call it a day," he answered grimly. "Takeru...is not available for questions at the moment. Which is understandable, considering the circumstances and the information these three"—he gestured to Miyako, Hikari, Iori, and their partners—"have provided. We're going to have to pick this up tomorrow."

"You're kidding, right?" Taichi asked incredulously. "You heard what they said. He—"

"I know that you want answers. We know how you feel. But have some sympathy, Taichi," Sora said quietly, reaching out to give his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

"How would you feel if you lost your partner, not knowing if he's hurt or scared?" Hikari whispered, unknowingly echoing what Yamato had asked Koushiro. Her words had a similar effect on Taichi, causing him to fall silent and look at his partner—who was sitting quietly at the foot of Koushiro's bed—with an indecipherable expression.

"Takeru must be in a lot of pain," Tailmon murmured, looking at her paws. "Lost and confused."

"I hope Patamon's ok, wherever he is," Miyako mumbled, her eyes downcast as well. She squeezed Poromon tightly, seemingly ignoring the look of concern that he shot her.

Silence once again settled the room like an invisible glass veil. Delicate, and yet dangerous. Koushiro was not certain of how long it lasted. Maybe a few moments. Could have been minutes. It shattered when Taichi released a heavy sigh.

"Alright," he said grimly, pursing his lips. "I'll call Mom and see if she can pick us up. That ok with you, Hika?"

"Sure," Hikari murmured distractedly and stood up after a moment's pause.

"I'll call my mother," Iori added. "She could take you home, too, Miyako."

Miyako mumbled an ok under her breath and within the next few minutes, rides were situated. Sora was heading over to Taichi's place with him and Hikari. Koushiro sent out a message to both Ken and Daisuke to ensure that they were aware that Takeru had been found and that it would be best to head back to their apartments. He received a reply from both of them in a matter of minutes (Daisuke's reply hinted that he was displeased with Koushiro's orders while Ken simply said ok and bid him a good night), and that was that.

Twenty minutes later, everyone was gone, and Koushiro was left alone with Tentomon, who looked around the room with distaste.

"You know, we're going to be the ones that have to clean up all of this sand before your parents get home, Koushiro-han," he said.

Koushiro released a humorless chuckle, rubbing his temples. A nasty headache was beginning to form. "You're not wrong."

"So we'd better get started, then."

"You mean I should get started while you watch, wait until I'm almost done, and then decide I might need your assistance?"

Tentomon released a fake gasp. "I'm offended that you would think of me as such a sloth, Koushiro-han."

"But it's true."

A pause. "Perhaps."

Koushiro laughed again quietly, appreciating the fact that Tentomon could find the humor in a situation that was confusing the hell out of him. At least he would have something to distract him for a while.

* * *

Later that night, around eight-thirty or so, Koushiro sat in his desk chair, eyes focused once again on his laptop's screen. Tentomon was dozing off on his bed, head resting on his arms. Mumbled something about being hungry. An empty plate rested, abandoned, next to the slumbering digimon. The only sounds that could be heard were the tapping and clicking of Koushiro's fingers as he typed and his partner's soft snores and nonsensical sleep talk.

Both of them were blissfully unaware of the inky black eyes peering through Koushiro's bedroom window.

Even when Taichi called.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for disappearing. Thanks for waiting and for all the kudos. :)

**Ch 17 || With Heaven Above You**

Laughter. Genuine, contagious laughter, echoing. Surrounding. Consuming.

Hikari recognized it instantly, knew the source without looking. She whirled around to find him, eyes catching a glimpse of blond hair in the expanse of endless white. But it was disorienting and blurry, and it took a long time for her vision to clear.

"Takeru?" she called out dazedly, blinking hard to stop the world from swimming. "Takeru... is that you?"

"Hey, Hika."

She was startled as his hand came to rest on her shoulder. How had he reached her so fast when he'd been such a distance away? "Hi, Takeru."

He grinned at her, and it was a gesture that reached his eyes. Wide. Genuine. Happy. "Startled you, didn't I?"

"A little, yeah," she admitted and couldn't help but mimic his smile. It was nice to see such happiness reflecting in his eyes, to hear him laugh so contently. She couldn't remember how long it'd been since she'd seen this side of him. Days? Weeks?

"You should smile more often," she decided to say, extending her fingers to brush stray hairs from eyes that weren't shadowed with fatigue.

"I smile all the time," he said, chuckling.

"Not lately."

As she said the words, a chill ran down her spine with such force that it made her shudder. In the distance, she swore she saw something quivering, but her attention was soon brought back to Takeru, who was studying her worriedly.

"Why do you look scared?"

She was barely tall enough to look past him. But it did not matter; the moment they appeared, she heard it. Felt their presence. The air seemed colder; suddenly much more threatening. Fearing what a glance around would show her, she kept her gaze locked on his. "You... you feel that, don't you?"

He released her shoulder, frowning, his laughter long gone. "Don't be afraid," he murmured gently. "Just close your eyes... and they'll go away."

She did. Tightly. Her fists clenched, and she breathed out, slowly. Carefully. When a gentle breeze licked at her clothes, she decided it was time to open them again, but the sight in front of her brought tears to her eyes.

The white surrounding them was fading away rapidly, swallowed up by darkness. Takeru had fallen to his knees, head buried in his shaking hands.

"Takeru," she screamed, rushing toward him. But every time she neared him, he slipped further and further away, almost as if he was being consumed by the darkness as well. She kept running, trying to reach him. To touch him. To protect him. "Takeru, stand up... get away from there!"

"I... I'm sorry, Hikari..." he whispered, finally glancing upward to gaze at her face again. Tears glistened in bloodshot eyes and he looked noticeably paler. More exhausted. He lowered his arms and—

And she saw the blood. Saw it rolling down his wrists in tiny crimson waterfalls. Saw the cuts that littered his skin like horrible, horrible tattoos. Saw scabs and angry pink lines.

"I'm going away now," he muttered, and even though he'd said the words quietly, they echoed around the way his laughter had earlier, and she shook her head.

"No... no, Takeru, you can't..." She trailed off, her eyes widening when new slices appeared. Blood poured and pooled, staining his clothes. His skin. Hikari couldn't watch it, couldn't see her best friend crumble anymore. So she moved faster, heart pounding. "Takeru, no! NO!"

"I'm so tired... I just can't take it anymore..." he said brokenly, and before she could respond, he was gone; and she was running after him, trying to figure out where he went; and she screamed and screamed and screamed, ripping through the darkness with everything she had. With every part of her.

It's no use. He's gone, girl. He's mine. I have broken him. And there is nothing you can do to piece him back together.

No matter how hard Hikari tried, she couldn't find him. Couldn't pull him out of the darkness. Couldn't ignore the voice that was telling her to give up. Her legs failed to catch her as she fell, burying her head in her hands. And she sobbed.

* * *

(8:28 p.m.)

Hikari was still crying when she woke up. She sniffed and bolted upward, hastily wiping away tears. But she couldn't stop the sob from slipping from her lips and didn't do a very good job of smothering it.

"Hikari?" Tailmon whispered quietly.

It took Hikari a moment to realize that it was early in the evening—maybe around eight or eight-thirty—and she'd fallen asleep on the sofa. She and Tailmon were home alone—she vaguely remembered Taichi and their mother going out to get medicine or something. Sora must have gone home. She brushed away more tears and cleared her throat, carefully avoiding her digimon partner's gaze. "Do you know where I put my phone?"

Standing and stretching, Tailmon gestured toward the coffee table with her tail. "Why are you crying, Hikari?"

"I have to call him." She'd tried to say it firmly, but her voice broke, and _darn it_ , why wouldn't the tears stop rolling? She swallowed hard and grabbed the device at which her partner pointed, punched in her best friend's number. Brought her phone to her ear. Drummed her fingers against her knees nervously as it started to ring.

"Hey," Takeru's voice said somewhat casually in greeting, and the sense of relief that washed over Hikari made her bite her lip to stop another wave of tears.

"Hey," she echoed shakily. "It's me."

"Are you ok, Hikari?" he asked instantly, and it had been what she was going to ask him, but instead she sniffed again, squeezing her eyes shut as her throat closed up.

"I... I needed to make sure _you_ were ok," she rasped finally.

"Yeah, I'm ok," Takeru assured, and Hikari desperately wanted to know if he was telling the truth because a big part of her believed he wasn't. His voice was a little too cheery, too fake.

Because Patamon was gone. Patamon was missing, and she knew that Takeru was breaking on the inside. Patamon meant everything to him. But he wasn't alone; Yamato had found him. Still...

"Are you sure?"

Hesitance. "Yeah, m'fine." A small pause, followed by a shaky breath. Tearfully: "Nii-san says we're going to look for Patamon first thing tomorrow morning."

"You're not... you're not planning anything stupid, are you?"

Takeru didn't answer right away. Finally: "Like what?"

Hikari drew in a quiet, quivering breath. Willed her racing heart to slow. Was this even a good idea? She hadn't even thought about what she was supposed to say. "Just promise me. Promise you won't do anything stupid. Alright?"

"Alright. I promise," Takeru murmured, and then, much more gently: "Hey, Hika... did something happen to you? What's wrong?"

"No...nothing happened. I just..."

_You wouldn't really kill yourself, would you?_

Takeru waited for her response patiently. But she couldn't find the words, couldn't ask that out loud. He was _Takeru_ , after all. Why would he do something like that? Why would he resort to pain for comfort, when he had friends in whom he could confide? Did he really think that was a solution?

He wouldn't... he wouldn't keep that sort of thing from her, right?

_It wasn't real,_ she promised herself. _Just a stupid dream._

"I'm here," she murmured without realizing it because she couldn't convince herself of it no matter how hard she tried. "I'm always here. And I want you to know that."

"I do know that," Takeru told her shakily after a long pause. She'd expected him to follow up with, "Where is this coming from?" or "Why?"

Instead, he just said, "I... I gotta go, Hika. See you later, ok?"

"Ok. Bye, Takeru."

"Bye."

The call ended with a click. She pressed her fingers to her eyes to keep the tears from rolling, to collect herself.

"Hikari?" Tailmon rested a paw on her knee, startling her, and red-webbed eyes met her partner's. Her lip quivered, but she swallowed again. Hard. Tried to keep her resolve from breaking again.

She turned away and blinked a few times. Forced herself to stand. It was cold suddenly—cold enough to draw shivers from her body, but she decided to blame it on the dream.

"Where are you going?"

"To take a shower," she answered. Maybe it would help her feel better. Would ease the tightness in her throat that stemmed from holding back tears. Would help her sift through these frantic thoughts. Would warm her up.

So she trekked to her room, grabbed some new clothes. It was getting harder to ignore the chill that followed her around, causing goosebumps to surface. When she turned around to make her way to the bathroom, Tailmon was standing in the doorway, her eyes glistening with concern and suspicion.

"Did something happen to Takeru?"

"No, he said he's ok. Yamato's with him."

"I meant in your dream."

She stopped moving, felt her muscles tense up. She kept quiet for a while, wanting to block out the images from that strange dream. Why was it so hard to convince herself that he wouldn't do something like that?

_"I'm sorry, Hikari... I can't take it anymore..."_

_"I''m going away now..."_

It was freezing now. It felt like someone had taken her out of her home and placed her in a place where winter was eternal. Where summer was long gone. She fought the urge to wrap her arms around herself and shivered, clenching her fists.

A child's giggle flitted through her ears, and she wasn't sure if that was what caused her to inhale as sharply as she did or if it was the low hiss that emitted from Tailmon, whose back was arched, eyes narrowed.

"What is it?" she whispered.

"I... I thought I saw something," Tailmon said warily. When she faced Hikari again, her gaze was solemn. "I don't think you should shower alone, ok? I'll be here with you."

Hikari hesitated, studying her partner carefully. And she nodded. Couldn't stifle the shudder that rippled through her body. "Alright."

Her hands trembled as she turned on the faucet to test the temperature of the water. Even as it began to warm up, she was cold. It was an unnerving type of cold, burying itself beneath her skin, clinging to her bones. The kind of cold that she'd felt when she'd been dragged into the Dark Ocean.

Another violent shudder claimed her body. She forced herself not to think about that.

Tailmon sat on the sink, looking at her paws as Hikari undressed. She stepped into the shower finally, letting the water sink its hot fingers into her flesh, tracing the path of curves and muscle. Dispelling the chills that haunted her. Helped ease the soreness in her limbs that she hadn't been aware of until that moment. She barely noticed the sand that fell to the shower's tiled floor.

It would have been soothing—relaxing, even—if her mind was focused on something other than the events that had occurred earlier that week and today. Voices and images boomed in her brain:

The glassy look he gave her when she and the others found him alone in the forest: _"There was... a girl..."_

The fake smile Takeru shot her when she'd asked him what he'd saw that day at the lake: "It's nothing, ok? Nothing happened. I'm fine. Don't worry about it."

Takeru's horrified expression when she'd asked him why he'd called that day after Yamato was released from the hospital, and then his confession when she pulled him into an embrace: _"I'm scared, Hika..."_

The wild look in his eyes when Daisuke had confronted him just before they were attacked: _"You have to believe me when I tell you that what you don't know will_ kill everyone!"

The blood that was smeared across his wrists and the tears that streamed down his face as the darkness swallowed him whole: _"I just can't take it anymore..."_

How come, despite being his best friend, Takeru was pushing her away? Was it something she had done that made him build an almost invincible wall between them? If not, what had happened? She knew it was bad. Horrible, even. Worry bloomed in her stomach, because the more she thought about it, the more she doubted his word. He'd promised that he wouldn't do anything stupid. But he hadn't promised that he would talk to her.

Wiping angrily at her face, Hikari switched off the water. She supposed she was well enough warmed up now.

Until she stepped out. Air whipped against her naked flesh; caused goosebumps to surface. A gasp rose in her throat as she shivered, eager fingers reaching for her towel. She wiped at her face again, then decided to cover up.

"What's wrong, Hikari?" Tailmon asked as Hikari secured the towel around her frame. Hikari hummed in reply, combing her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it. But no matter how hard she tried to distract herself, she couldn't focus on any smaller tasks—only the fact that the temperature in the room was rapidly becoming colder, drawing more shivers from her body.

She neared the foggy mirror, tried to clear the condensation from it with shaky hands. She studied her reflection for a moment.

Her hair was still a mess, of course. Her eyes were webbed with confusion. Sadness. Frustration. Emotions that she wanted to ignore. But the more she looked at herself, the more weighed down she felt. Was this what Takeru was feeling at the moment? Was this why, despite all of her attempts—as well as the attempts of others—to help him carry the load, Takeru constructed a barrier to keep everyone out? Did he truly believe he could face his demons on his own?

Something behind her shifted. Hikari whirled around, eyes widening. Tailmon hissed venomously all of a sudden, and as that sound stretched around her, she felt her heartbeat quicken just a tad. Then it became loud. Louder. Deafening. Her pulse echoed in her ears, and she was suddenly aware of how badly the shivers had become.

"Someone's here," Tailmon said quietly.

Panic bubbled up, rose just beneath her skin. Intoxicating. Sickening. It twisted her stomach uneasily, and just as she tried to push that fear away, she saw it again.

This time, when her eyes searched for culprits, they landed on a frowning little girl. Limp dirty-brown curls framed her grey face and soulless eyes. Beside her was a boy with similar features, but his lips were curved in a sadistic, sick smile that showed he was missing some teeth.

"Hey." His voice echoed as he spoke, seemingly bouncing off the walls. "Looking for someone?"

Automatic instinct was to scream. Her lips parted, but her shriek was muffled as the little girl flickered, her cold, cold hands covering her mouth.

"Don't." Unlike the boy's voice, hers was monotonous. Emotionless.

Stunned, Hikari's grip on her towel loosened. As it fell to the floor, she felt her eyes pop wide. Fear skyrocketed, consuming her one vein, one artery, one capillary at a time until she felt sick.

The little boy gripped her left hand so hard that she knew it would bruise. "You are so warm... perhaps that is why Hope doesn't want me to hurt you. He doesn't want me to take away your warmth." Then, menacingly: "Too bad he is not here to see you now, yeah?"

_Takeru..._

Above them, lights flickered. She whimpered against the girl's hand, felt her legs tremble beneath her. The chill of the girl's skin spread to her own, paralyzing her.

"Get away from her," Tailmon cried, leaping off the sink. Hikari's warning to stop her partner couldn't pass her lips, and she couldn't move to help when the boy's fingers released hers and wrapped around the kitten digimon's throat.

"Stop it," the child said, frowning in dismay. "You creatures only get in the way."

_Tailmon,_ she wanted to scream, and Tailmon tried to pry herself loose of his grip, but it wasn't working. Nothing was working.

"You know, he thinks so highly of you two," the boy continued airily, his lips cracking in a smile. "He thinks you are very strong. Stronger than him, even. Such a shame that he was wrong."

Tailmon was losing consciousness. Somehow, the boy had stolen all of her energy. Hikari wanted to close her eyes, to look away from the mirror. But she couldn't. She was frozen in place, immobilized. Tears started rolling, one after another, hot on her cheeks.

As the world blurred, the little boy taunted, "Not so full of light, are you?"

Light.

She reached desperately, tried to find it. There had to be some slither of it hidden somewhere deep inside, like buried treasure. Beneath icy, painful darkness, she called for it. Longed for it. Needed it. Thoughts ricocheted through her brain, creative side to rational side. Maybe she was hallucinating. All she needed was a little light to break this spell.

But the hand tightening on her own and the other pressed against her lips was so undoubtedly _real._ How could she break away from something that refused to let go? How could she pry these fingers from her flesh or from Tailmon when she herself was too frozen to move? Too horrified to make a sound?

Then. Then it hit her.

Takeru. These... these _things_ , they knew Takeru.

_They're haunting him._

All at once, Hikari saw it. Saw them. Saw Takeru bolting up in bed, horrified and hyperventilating. Saw him running; trying to escape. Saw the boy and the girl chasing him, laughing. Smiling. And there were more. A woman with stringy black hair and sickly pale eyes backing him into a corner. A boy coaxing something sharp into Takeru's hands. Outside the bedroom window, they floated, staring. Laughing at him. Searching for him. Like it was a game and Takeru was the prize everyone wanted to win.

She saw them hiding in obvious places, watching. Watching. Watching. Saw them luring Takeru into the forest, the girl's hand interlacing with his. Saw them following him and Yamato around, disappearing and reappearing around every corner and behind every tree.

Saw the girl sitting next to Yamato's hospital bed with a wicked grin.

Saw her on the balcony, staring at an anxious and horrified Takeru.

Saw a boy merge with Yamato's body and a steady heartbeat echoed in her head. One, two, three beats. Five. Six. Her brother screaming at the tenth. Was running around frantically at the fifteenth. She saw Mimi just staring, horrified; and Miko hissing vehemently, and glass shattering, and screaming, and screaming, and _you can't save him, you can't save him, you can't save him._

Saw Takeru bristle, looking around. Waiting. Waiting. Saw him bleeding. Saw him hurting. Raucous voices exploded in her brain, so loud that it felt like they were screaming in her ears:

_"Having problems, Hope?"_

_"Do you think he knows where he's at, sister?"_

_"Next time, he won't wake up."_

_"Get mad, Takeru. Go ahead. Be angry."_

_"It worked for Miyuki."_

_"Hush, Hush, little boy Hope. Don't fret. He is fine."_

_"He's coming with me for a little while."_

The images flashed, one after another, like some sort of movie. Hikari was seeing the world through Takeru's eyes, living his life in the past few weeks. She felt pain at first, and fear. Panic. Horrible, horrible panic. Anger. Hatred.

The emotions slammed into her so hard, so fast that she felt nauseous. Enveloping her. Destroying her. They clawed at her soul, ripped it apart. She wanted to scream. To break something. To run away.

But she couldn't _move_ , couldn't dispel these feelings. When she closed her eyes, they danced across the backs of her eyelids. Horror. Rage. Misery.

Despair.

It clicked. All made sense. Hikari _understood_ suddenly, realized why Takeru was so distant. Why he pushed her away. Why he wanted to be alone. It was because he didn't want anyone to suffer. Didn't want anyone to know. But did that mean he should shatter underneath the weight of protecting everyone else?

_Why do you want to be broken?_ she thought, and as the words bulleted across her mind, a slice of light break through the barrier of darkness trying to smother her.

Warmth bloomed inside her, spread across her body. Bubbled on her skin. Somewhere, she heard a shriek. Pained. Inhuman. Menacing. But she didn't care. Couldn't care. The only thing on her mind was Takeru.

She ripped away from cold hands, saw them stumble backward in the mirror. Sudden power swept through her, growing, building, building, fueling her. As she whirled around, she opened her mouth, ready to yell at them. Ready to throw her light them. Ready to exterminate them.

But they didn't look so threatening, huddled in the corner, wrapped in each other's arms, whimpering. Scared. They didn't appear to want to put up a fight. More like they were ready to surrender.

And realization hit again. They were just kids, maybe nine or ten years old. Young. Innocent. How could they cause such harm to her? How could they have so much hatred, so much evil buried deep inside? Were these children actually the source of Takeru's nightmares, or was there something more; something darker that was controlling them?

Slowly, hesitantly, she took a step forward. The little boy's grip on the whimpering girl tightened and he looked at her with eyes that were much different from before. They weren't soulless.

They were a soft brown, filled with angry, yet frightened tears. "Y-you can't hurt us," he whispered as if trying to appear brave. "We're already dead. What can you do? Huh?"

Dead. Dead as in no longer living. Dead as in their physical bodies were long gone. Dead as in their hopes and dreams and innocence... gone. These were haunted spirits with no place to go. They were trapped, stuck in a world in which they did not belong. Hikari's eyes widened and in the back of her mind, she felt her light shimmer.

Not because her power was dwindling, but because she wanted to help these spirits. Wanted to free them from their shackles. Wanted to guide them back home.

"Hi...Hikari...?" Tailmon whispered somewhat dazedly, and Hikari halted, eyes widening to see her partner on the bathroom floor. "Be careful," she added when Hikari didn't speak. "Don't... don't get near them."

"They can't do anything to us anymore," Hikari replied, and for some reason, she believed it was true. She reached out, knelt down in front of him. Cupped the little boy's cheek. There was a noticeable glow to her skin compared to the boy's, and as her fingers caressed his grey face, he winced. Recoiled. Pushed the girl farther into the corner.

"Don't touch me," he snarled, his eyes flashing again. Black. Brown. Black. Brown.

Hikari retracted her hand, frowned a little. She watched as he shook the girl's shoulders hard and commanded her to dry her tears. The little girl sniffed and glanced at Hikari with a hint of what seemed like sadness and longing before she took the boy's hand.

She closed her eyes for a moment because the look that girl gave her was an expression she'd seen before, but she couldn't figure out where. When she opened them, they were gone.

Stunned, Hikari could only stare at the corner they had just occupied. So many questions burned through her mind, but before she could even begin to search for answers, the world began swimming.

Every ounce of power she had faded, became a whisper in the wind. She tumbled to the floor, head spinning. She swore she saw the lights flicker again, but was too consumed with dizziness to pay attention to it.

"Hikari? _Hikari!"_

Tailmon's voice sounded around her, but it was hard to focus. She couldn't tell if Tailmon was behind, in front of, or next to her. Couldn't tell if her partner was still hurt.

Then something hit her chest, nestling on her collarbone. Not too hard, but enough to gain her attention. The world blurred and swayed under her eyelashes as she grasped at the object with hands that felt uncomfortably heavy.

She closed her eyes in an attempt to control the dizziness, to get the room to stand still. Voices sounded somewhere beyond the bathroom door. Frantic. Loud. Hikari clutched harder at the object, did the only thing she could think of to do.

Scream.

The sound slipped from her lips, as forceful as the terror and nausea, and echoed around her. Bounced off the walls. She searched blindly for her towel, wrapped it around her weak, tremoring body. Stood on legs that threatened to collapse on her again.

And she ran. Ran past Tailmon, ignoring her partner because she needed to get out; needed to feel her legs move. Ran past Taichi, who had been pounding on the wood, telling her she and Tailmon were no longer home alone. Ran to her and Taichi's bedroom, slamming the door behind her. Ran to her bed.

She collapsed onto it. Fell into the embrace of her blankets. She wrapped herself in them, shuddering beneath their protection. As her pulse rang in her ears again, she tried desperately to keep the tears at bay.

The spirits. She had been so close to helping them. But who was she to play God? Who was she to say they needed to go to another place? Who was she to believe she could actually take them there?

But whether she could or not, she didn't. And now they were going back to hurt Takeru again.

"Hikari?" Soft, but a little frantic. Her brother.

She wiped at her eyes again, drew a shaky breath. Clutched the blanket harder. "What?" The word came out as a croak.

"Are you ok? What happened?"

"I—I'm f-fine," she stammered, although it was obvious that she wasn't.

"Why did you scream?"

_Lie._

The word drifted through her mind, a faint murmur of an autumn breeze. Hikari swallowed back the lump in her throat. Willed her racing heart to slow. Tried to level her erratic breathing.

"I... I saw a spider," she answered weakly, and it probably didn't seem too convincing because Taichi went quiet on the other side of the door. She bit her lip nervously, toyed with the hem of her blanket absentmindedly.

Then: "Can I come in?"

She sniffed and nodded, but then remembered he couldn't see the gesture, so she meekly said, "Ok."

Slowly, the doorknob jostled. Hikari stiffened a little beneath her covers, but relaxed as Taichi's worried eyes met hers. Agumon was next to him, frowning in concern.

She knew she looked horrible. Her hair had yet to be combed, her face was pink, and her eyes were red and puffy. Taichi frowned, but his opinion about her appearance was something he hid beneath worry and confusion as he slowly trekked over to her.

Carefully, he sat down on the edge of her bed. "Are you going to tell me the truth now?"

"I am telling the truth," she insisted.

Tailmon blurred through the room, bouncing onto her blanket. Panting, she looked Hikari directly in the eye, her expression completely solemn. "Those were _not_ spiders, Hikari."

Taichi's gaze shifted from Hikari to Tailmon, and then back to her, who felt as though she would be sick. "What happened?" her brother repeated slowly.

"Don't lie to him," her partner told her. "I felt it. I saw it."

"Saw _what?_ " Taichi looked like he was getting impatient. "Tell me why you screamed, Hikari. And she's right. Don't lie to me. It wasn't a damn bug. No one would scream like that over a _bug._ When I walked in the door, I thought... I... damn it, Hikari, I thought someone was in there _hurting_ you—"

"Someone was," she said out of nowhere, and it made Taichi stop cold, made him stiffen. His eyes widened and filled with horror, and before he could ask who, she whispered, "But I closed my eyes... and they went away."

_Just like he said they would._

Out of instinct, her fingers moved to grip the thin chain around her neck. Then they toyed with the tag attached to the chain.

Her eyes popped wide and glanced down, looking at it. Studying it. The crest of Light dangled freely above her collarbone, pulsing quietly, in perfect sync with her heartbeat.

"Where did you get that?" Taichi asked in awe. Studied her face intently. "Hey... your bruises and the cut on your lip is gone. How did that...?"

"I... I don't know," she admitted softly, her fingers curling into a fist around it. Everything had happened so fast that she wasn't sure where it had come from, or when it appeared. All she knew was that it gave her strength, and it saved her and Tailmon.

"You called for it," Tailmon told her. "It was listening."

When she met Tailmon's eyes, her own filled with tears again. Without even thinking she gathered her partner in her arms and sobbed into the kitten's fur, holding on tightly because she was afraid to let go.

She sobbed because she was so close to losing her. She sobbed because she hurt, and Takeru was hurting, and she knew why, and she didn't know how to help him. She sobbed because she didn't want to see him suffer; didn't want to see him crumbling; didn't want to see him get hurt again, by his own hands or by anyone else's.

"I—I was so scared..." she murmured against her partner's coat. "I... I thought they were going to kill us..."

At some point, Taichi slipped an arm around her shoulders, and she moved to bury her head in his chest. She shook and cried and cried and shook, soaking up the warmth of the blanket around her and the warmth that radiated from her brother.

Time passed. Could have been seconds. Minutes. Possibly half an hour. Hikari wasn't sure. Eventually, she pulled away, scrubbing her eyes, sniffling. "I should get dressed," she whispered hoarsely, and as she said the words, Hikari realized suddenly that she was, in fact, completely naked underneath her blanket. Despite the fact that she was covered up, she felt vulnerable. Exposed. Embarrassed.

It must have been written all over her face because Taichi stood and said softly, "Ok. I'll be outside if you need me."

She watched him go, remaining under the safety of her blanket until the door clicked shut. Slowly, the brunette slipped out of bed, walked over to her dresser. As she dressed herself, she said to Tailmon, "I need to get ahold of Takeru..."

"As fast as possible," the cat digimon said.

She threaded her arms through the sleeves of one of Taichi's old t-shirts. It fell over her stomach, twice her size. With the crest of Light tucked safely beneath the fabric, she said, "And I'm not going to let him lie to me. I'm getting some answers." She grabbed her comb and sat in the desk chair she and Taichi shared, and then searched for her d-terminal so she could contact her best friend.

_We need to talk. Now,_ she typed and hit send. But before she could set the device down, Taichi was knocking on their bedroom door again. Didn't wait for an answer before he shoved the door open, eyes anxious and wild.

That wasn't an expression Taichi wore often.

"What?" she asked instantly, feeling her legs tremble.

"It's Takeru." Taichi swallowed thickly. "Yamato says he's gone again."

Her d-terminal crashed onto the floor.


	18. There's Hell over Me

**Ch 18 || There's Hell over Me**

(Approximately seven hours ago, 2:43 p.m.)

Takeru was going to be sick.

Raw adrenaline pumped through him. Adrenaline and uncontrollable, dizzying panic. It fueled his every step, seemed to bleed through his skin. His brain was a storm of thoughts—they bulleted around and around in chaotic, unpredictable patterns like lightning and echoed like thunder. It made him want to find safety. Made him shake. But there was no shelter from this disaster inside his head, nor was there protection from the mess _around_ him.

But he continued to descend the stairs anyway. Away from Jou, away from curious, worried eyes, away from the questions. Rounded the corner, across the field of grass, down the sidewalk where a red stop light glared in his direction. Barely noticed the cars that honked at him as his legs brought him to the other side of the street without even waiting for the light to turn green.

Left, right. Left, right. Left, right. He wasn't sure how much time had passed while he ran. It definitely felt like more than a few minutes, but it was entirely possible that it had only been that long. His heart pounded in his chest; his mind raced; his body burned; his lungs screamed. Everything was muffled and blurry and he wasn't even sure where he was. His head just said _move_ , run, get out, leave.

He listened to it without hesitation because it was easier to run than to face his friends.

Everyone wanted to know what had happened, and he couldn't tell them. But Hikari and the others were still at Koushiro's, and who was there to say that they wouldn't speak up? They had said they trusted him, and he believed them, but that didn't mean they wouldn't answer whatever questions Koushiro hurled at them.

Which meant that more people would be at risk, and Takeru was certain that those children would hurt someone just like they'd hurt Yamato.

He had no idea where his partner was. Prayed somewhere, in the back of his mind, that Patamon was at least unconscious. Or was he awake, terrified and alone, wondering how he had gotten where he was? Were those kids planning to do something horrible to him, if they hadn't already?

Different scenarios popped up in his head, one after another, just like they would after he woke up from one of his nightmares. Except this wasn't a dream—none of it was. It was his reality, and he didn't want to face it.

_Why is all of this happening to me?_

He was forced to stop when the world blurred. Didn't want to pass out. Or did he? It would be great just to fade into darkness, just for a few moments, at least, so he wouldn't have to deal with this horrible guilt. Or panic. Or nausea. Or the heat. But another part of him screamed that that wouldn't help Patamon, wouldn't promise safety for his friends, so he clung to consciousness with every ounce of willpower he had.

The back of his mind recognized where he was. Behind his old elementary school, somewhat protected from the heat by its shadow. But he was too busy trying to catch his breath to care. Rested his hands on his knees as he doubled over, trying to control his thundering heartbeat and his breathing. Each time he inhaled seemed harder than the last, and his chest was on fire. So was everything else.

Someone called his name. Takeru's head snapped up and he searched wildly for the speaker, getting ready to bolt again even though he lacked the energy to do so. But how was Jou still following him? Hadn't he lost him? Being around people was the last thing he needed right now.

His stomach rolled uneasily when blue eyes settled on a blue-haired figure only twenty or so feet away. Nineteen feet. Eighteen. Seventeen. Takeru backpedaled, but he was so dizzy and breathless that his feet failed to carry him. He collapsed to the ground, gasping for air as though he had been stuck underwater for far too long.

"Takeru... s-stop..." Jou wheezed out, his face flushed pink.

Takeru shook his head slowly, attempting to push himself upward with tremoring hands. But it hurt too much, and he was exhausted. And it seemed Jou had figured that out, too, because he lowered himself in front of Takeru so that they were eye-level.

"D-don't touch me," Takeru rasped immediately, his heart pounding so hard in his chest that it was painful. He scooted backward frantically. "Please, I—"

"It's g-going to be ok," Jou interrupted, breathing as heavily as Takeru was. "Just... don't"—pant—"run"—pant—"anymore."

It was _not_ going to be ok. His best friend was being held captive by demonic children who only wished for destruction and pain. His secrets weren't secrets anymore. His friends and his brother were all in danger, and it was all because of _him_ , damn it. And... and... and...

"It's _not_ ok," he repeated out loud, once again shaking his head. "Nothing has _ever_ been _ok,_ Jou, it's _never going to be ok!_ "

"Takeru, no, shhh, listen... listen to me," Jou started again, slowly, as he drew in several more deep breaths. "It _is_ , alright? I promise—"

"Please don't make that promise." Tears clouded his vision as he shook his head violently, back and forth, back and forth. Tugged at his hair. "You'll get hurt. Nii-san said it, and he's hurt; Hikari said it, and she's in danger; Patamon said it, and they took him—"

"Who did?"

_"Hush, hush, little boy Hope."_

_"She didn't say I couldn't kill anyone else..."_

Oh, no. No, no, no. Takeru released a sob in reply, trying to breathe and quiet those voices and make sense of things and figure out how he was supposed to get away without saying something that would put Jou at risk, but he couldn't do all of that at once.

He just needed to be alone. He needed to keep running. He needed to go back to the digital world to find his best friend. But what if they were watching him right now and were waiting for him to do just that? He felt trapped. Suffocating. Panic gripped him so tightly that he'd forgotten what it felt like to be calm. What it felt like to be steady.

What it felt like to be _sane._

"I—I feel dizzy."

It spilled from his lips without his consent, but it was true, and he pulled harder at his hair, doubling over, sucking in breath after breath. But he couldn't get any air in his lungs. It felt like someone sitting on his chest, and everything was spinning. Spinning. Spinning. Like he was back in the sand. His heart was pounding and pounding, and he was sweating and hot and shaky; and one, two, three, _breathe_ ; one, two, three, _breathe_ ; one, two, breathe, three, breathe; breathe; two, one, one, three, breathe—

"You're having a panic attack," Jou said carefully, dragging him away from his thoughts. "I need you to look at me, ok, Takeru?"

He squeezed his eyes shut, still shaking his head, releasing his hair as his fingernails dug into his palms. Deeper. Deeper. He continued to hyperventilate, even when his hands started to tingle. Was vaguely aware that Jou was still talking.

"I'm up here," Jou said gently as if refusing to give up. "Focus on me."

Slowly, Takeru lifted his gaze so that he met Jou's eyes, which were wide but definitely steadier than Takeru's. Jou nodded vigilantly, murmuring, "What you're feeling is scary, but it's not going to last forever. Concentrate on each breath; it'll be alright."

"I—I'm t-trying—"

"Keep trying. Keep trying, Takeru. It's gonna be alright."

A wave of déjà vu hit him, and suddenly Takeru was back in his apartment, and it was Ken who was instructing him to breathe instead of Jou. Was telling him to focus. _Focus._ Takeru swallowed shakily, remembering what Ken had done. He'd counted. Slowly. _Slowly._ One... two... three... breathe.

Muted the voices of the children.

One... two... three... breathe.

Blocked out disturbing images, memories, nightmares.

One... two... three... breathe.

Switched off the fear, the pain, the panic.

One... two... three... breathe.

"Good," Jou praised quietly, and they were behind the elementary school again. Takeru's heart was still punching at his ribcage, but he breathed anyway. Counted quietly out loud. Tried to imagine the anxiety pouring out of him like water. Flowing. Fading. Fading.

"Ok," he whispered hoarsely, inhaling through his nose. Exhaling. Inhaling. Exhaling. "Ok... I'm ok. I'm ok."

"You're ok," Jou echoed. "I'm ok. Everyone's ok."

"Except Patamon."

"We'll find him."

"How do you know that?"

No response. Gently, Jou coaxed Takeru's fingers to uncurl, and it was then that Takeru realized he had broken through his skin. The tiny crescents engraved in his palms were bloody, and so were his fingernails.

He breathed in through his nose again as Jou studied his hands. "I'm sorry."

"For?"

"I don't know," he muttered. It was just something he had been saying a lot, lately. Didn't know what else to say. "Freaking out, I guess," he finished lamely.

"It's ok," Jou reassured. "Just... don't run off again, ok? I don't know if I can keep up with you anymore."

A hollow laugh left his lips. "I can't keep up with me, either."

Jou nodded silently in response, but his eyes wandered from Takeru's palms to his sleeves. Takeru was immediately reminded that his older friend had seen what he had been hiding behind these sleeves, and he felt his throat tighten up again. Felt his mouth go dry. Tucked his arms protectively against his chest.

Jou knew. He _knew._

"Um, listen, Jou—"

"You don't need to make excuses," Jou interrupted quickly. "I know what kind of marks those are."

He'd said it quietly. Solemnly. But there was something else in his voice that he couldn't place and that made Takeru nervous. Ashamed, he could only whisper, "Did you follow me so you could lecture me?"

"No," Jou answered with a sigh. "I followed you because you're injured and aren't thinking clearly. You've got sand in your hair and burns on your skin and I don't know how they got there. This is a big city, and... I know Patamon isn't here, but you've forgotten that we're a _team._ We're going to find him. Patamon wouldn't want you to worry, would he?"

Blinking away the sudden onset of fresh tears, Takeru nodded, but he knew it wasn't as simple as that. He wasn't even sure where the children had come from or where they had gone. But he quietly murmured, "No."

"Ok." Jou drew in a deep breath. "Now, I messaged your brother, and he's on his way here—"

Oh, no. Takeru's eyes popped wide as a fresh wave of anxiety rushed through him. When had Jou done that? Yamato couldn't see what Jou had seen. He _couldn't._ "You didn't tell him, did you?"

That made Jou pause. His eyes softened. "Did you want me to?"

"No," he muttered in a small voice, picking at his sleeves. "Please don't."

"Ta—"

" _Please_ , Jou. I-it's not even a big deal—"

"Would you really be hurting yourself if that was true?"

It was the first time someone had said it out loud, and Takeru was unprepared. So unprepared that the tears he'd been holding back started to break loose, and he hurriedly wiped at his face. Kept his gaze down. His throat was closing up again.

When he failed to respond, Jou said gently, "I didn't tell him. But this is a dangerous habit, Takeru, and bottling it up isn't healthy."

"So you _did_ come to lecture me."

Jou sighed quietly. "Can you blame me for being worried?"

Takeru didn't respond right away. Was too busy focusing on his breathing so he wouldn't start panicking again. Was ashamed and afraid. He hadn't told anyone for so many reasons: they would ask why, and he wouldn't be able to answer that. Sometimes, he didn't even _have_ the answer. It was his safety net, his warm blanket, his way of calming himself down. It was the only thing he could control, and he didn't want Jou to take that away.

The screeching of tires and a door slamming startled both of them, and the two teens looked around. Yamato limped in their direction, pale in the face, followed by his equally pale father and two digimon: Gabumon and Gomamon.

One of them shouted his name, and then Jou's, and it echoed around him as Takeru remained frozen in place, looking back at Jou with anxious eyes. But before anyone could say anything, Takeru was engulfed by a pair of arms the same moment that Gomamon jumped into Jou's arms.

"I'm so glad you're ok," Yamato started in relief as he squeezed him. "Koushiro called, and he said you were hurt, and when I tried to call you, Gomamon said you dropped your phone on the stairs and—god, Takeru, I was so worried—"

"Nii-san," Takeru gasped out, finding it hard to breathe through the embrace. "Nii-san, y-you're hurting me..."

Instantly, Yamato released him before taking a good look at him. He frowned, looking upset and frustrated and horribly guilty. "How did you get those burns on your neck?"

"Why are you covered in sand?" Gabumon asked.

Takeru visibly winced when Yamato brushed a hand against his shoulder—the shoulder that he vaguely recalled landing on when everyone had been forced back into the human world—and he quickly swatted it away with a hiss of pain.

"What _happened_ to you?" his father asked quietly, looking as shocked and horrified as Takeru felt. He'd stopped cold in his tracks, somehow looking older than the last time Takeru had seen him.

"I..." Takeru trailed off, not wanting to lie, but what was he supposed to say? He'd ran away so he didn't have to answer that question, but here it was again, popping up over and over and it seemed like there was no escape. "I—"

"Lemme see, Teek," Yamato said, gently trying to pry Takeru's fingers away from his shoulder.

"No," he said sharply, yanking away. The sudden movement caused him more pain, but he couldn't let Yamato see that. "I-it's fine—it's just a bruise, honest," he said frantically when both his father and brother looked at him in shock.

"Whether it's just a bruise or not, we need to take you to the hospital," their father said sternly, kneeling down to examine Takeru's face. "You can explain what happened on the way there."

Takeru looked back at Jou in desperation, who said carefully, "You _do_ need medical attention, Takeru. Whatever adrenaline you had earlier is wearing off."

He was right, of course. Takeru's shoulder felt as though someone had stabbed him. His arm was tingling uncomfortably as though it was starting to fall asleep. The rest of him ached. What he had ignored earlier was now pleading for attention.

But if he went to the hospital, Yamato would see the scars. And he would be vulnerable to the children. He wouldn't be able to stop them if they went after someone else. He wouldn't be able to help find Patamon. He would have no way of knowing if one of his friends got hurt, and if he did find out, it would be too late.

Takeru would be an easy target. Free gain. And his friends would be, too.

_"Next time, he won't wake up."_

"You can't take me to the hospital," he rambled on, shaking his head again frantically. "Honest, it's not that bad. I just... it just needs ice, I think, and—and—"

He tried to think of an excuse. Tried to think of something—anything—that would convince them that hospitalization wasn't necessary. But he just kept babbling, not really knowing what it was that they needed to hear. Anxiety swelled in his chest just like it had earlier. His heartbeat echoed in his ears and he started to curl his hands into fists again.

"Hey, hey, hey, easy. Easy," Jou was saying, interrupting the trainwreck in his brain. "It's ok. Breathe, remember?"

Immediately, Takeru tried to gain his composure. Right. Getting worked up again wasn't going to help, was it? His family stared, wide-eyed and concerned, at him, and he flinched away when Gabumon reached out to grab his hand.

"Take me home," he begged, looking away from Jou and at his brother with pleading eyes. "Please, just. Let me go home..."

Yamato seemed hesitant. Shared a look with Jou and then their father. Opened his mouth several times, but nothing came out until, "Ok, Teek... Ok."

He sighed in pure relief, nodding quietly. "Ok."

"C'mon," Yamato said, carefully helping Takeru to his feet. Takeru masked another wince, slowly uncurling his fingers, but before either of them could get very far, their father took over and Jou spoke up.

"Yamato, could I speak to you for a moment?" He nodded his head in the other direction. "Privately."

Takeru swallowed, forcing himself to remain calm as his father guided him to his van, which was still running. He opened the door for Takeru and helped him into the seat even when Takeru whispered that it was ok. Buckled him up like a little kid right as Gabumon hopped into the seat next to him. When his dad pulled away he looked at Takeru with something akin to guilt and relief.

He didn't say anything. Just looked at him. It was awkward, but Takeru knew that his dad wasn't really good with words, especially around his kids. Carefully, he extended a hand as if to ruffle his hair, but instead just pulled at tiny strands. In his father's fingers were grains of sand.

"We're going to comb all of that out," he murmured, right as Takeru faced away from him, and then he cursed under his breath. Reached for Yamato's crutches. "That kid's gonna injure himself more if he keeps walking around without these... I'll be right back, ok?"

Takeru nodded but his eyes never left Yamato's face and dread filled him when he saw his brother's face twist with worry once again. Jou's lips were moving, and then Gomamon was speaking. Even tapped Jou on the arm as if to scold him. Then Yamato started talking, but they were now so far away that he couldn't hear what was being said. Could only watch anxiously as his father neared both teenagers and Gomamon.

"—found your phone," Gabumon was saying, capturing Takeru's attention. He pointed the small compartment in between the driver's seat and passenger's seat. "Yamato put the battery back in and says it still works."

He hummed in acknowledgment but didn't reach for the device. Tried to focus on the thrum of the air conditioner instead of his too-quick heartbeat. "Thanks."

Slowly, his father, Yamato, Gomamon, and Jou made their way back to the van. It was decided that his dad would take Jou home, and then Takeru was going to spend the rest of the day and night at his dad's apartment. Takeru nodded but wasn't really listening. What had Jou just told his brother? He didn't really want to find out.

The rest of the ride back was quiet.

* * *

(8:03 p.m.)

Takeru's shoulder still hurt, and he would be lying if he said it didn't worry him. He could barely move it without feeling sharp, needlelike sensations all throughout his collarbone and upper arm. It was weak and painful. But he was scared to tell his brother, especially since he'd finally convinced Yamato and his father that he was alright.

Which had taken a while. The burns on his skin had come from the scalding-hot sand and they stung, but most were small and not very painful. He'd allowed Yamato to look at some of them, but Takeru didn't bother with anything underneath his clothes. Couldn't remember how much protection his clothes had offered against the sand—it had all happened too fast. His father made a quick run to the nearest convenience store because they didn't have any antibiotic cream, and both he and Yamato insisted that Takeru needed it.

Takeru didn't fight them.

He'd showered afterward. Carefully, trying not to move his arm that much, and with lukewarm water. Told his brother he'd let him see if any more burns were present, and never did. It caused a worrying amount of pain just to remove his shirt, and when he stared at himself in the mirror, he could saw the light bruise covering part of his collarbone and the top of his shoulder. His chest was covered in small red dots, almost pink, as though he had some sort of rash. Probably from the sand. His shoulder was swelling, and Takeru decided it definitely needed some ice.

Yamato had sent Gabumon in the bathroom with him. That was awkward, but no matter what Takeru had said, Yamato wouldn't have it. It frustrated him, but he knew that his brother was just worried. Takeru was just thankful that Gabumon had remained silent most of the time. Takeru, himself, had stayed inside his head, thinking mainly about Patamon.

In the wake of the day's chaotic events, Takeru felt strangely detached. The world seemed a little too bright, and yet way too dull. Too loud, and yet eerily quiet. Surreal. _Too_ real.

He felt a little dead inside.

"I called Mom earlier and asked if you could stay," Yamato told him later that evening while setting a plate of food in front of him. "She said that you still haven't been sleeping well."

Takeru stared at the plate, stiffening slightly, trying to figure out how he was supposed to use his chopsticks while balancing an icepack on his shoulder. He decided to put it down on his lap, humming in response. Yamato frowned.

" _Still,_ " he repeated the word carefully. "Why haven't you been sleeping?"

"I've been sleeping fine," he said in a monotonous voice. Didn't want to have this conversation again.

Yamato eyed him suspiciously. But when he spoke, his voice was gentle. "I know how much the little guy means to you, and if we could search for him now, we would. But you're hurt. He wouldn't want you running around when you need your rest."

"I know." Quiet. Robotic.

"That's a promise, Teek." Yamato's voice was firm. Steady. "I promise you we will find Patamon."

"I know."

"Then why won't you look at me?"

Takeru finally did lift his gaze upward. Yamato's eyes still defined concern and determination, and Takeru couldn't bring himself to break Yamato's spirit. He was the keeper of Hope, and yet here his brother was, trying to be the optimistic one. Takeru sighed quietly, painting on a smile.

"You're taking my job away from me, Nii-san," he said. "I'm supposed to be Hope, here."

"Yeah, well," Yamato replied, "Hope needs a little push every now and then, doesn't he?"

"I guess so."

Yamato placed a hand on his good arm—which was covered by the sleeves of one of Yamato's old sweatshirts—and squeezed gently. "Don't worry about 'im, little bro. Patamon's tough. Wherever he is, I'm sure he's fine."

"I hope so," Takeru whispered, and he really did, but he didn't say anything else.

Their father came out of his bedroom moments later, having only been absent for a few minutes since Yamato told him supper was ready. He studied both brothers worriedly, but then he said that the food looked amazing. Which it did, and even though Takeru didn't have much of an appetite, he still decided to eat it if only to ease the concern in their gazes.

"How's your shoulder doing?"

The question was directed toward Takeru, of course. Probably in some attempt to strike up a conversation since Yamato and Takeru had been so quiet. Takeru placed his chopsticks down on his plate, looking down at his ice pack.

"It's fine," he said dismissively.

"You're a little pink," his father continued, eyeing him confusedly all of a sudden. "Maybe you should change into something less heavy so you aren't so hot. Or is that a sunburn...?"

"You were out in the heat for a while," Gabumon added.

Yamato peered closer at his neck, squinting slightly. "Is... is that a heat rash?"

"It _is_ a little too warm to be in sleeves," their father said.

Takeru tensed slightly. Chewed the inside of his cheek. Fought the urge to scratch his arm because now that they had mentioned it, this sweatshirt was a little itchy. He picked up the ice pack anyway, gently placing it back on his shoulder. Tried not to wince. Fumbled for an excuse: "The ice pack is kind of making it cold in here."

Yamato nodded slowly. "What about before?"

"I wasn't thinking when I grabbed clothes this morning," he said somewhat quickly, trying to smile. "Guess I should have been more careful, huh?"

Both of them quieted. They weren't people who conversed at dinner anyway—it wasn't often that the brothers sat together like this because of living in different homes and when they did share meals, their parents were working—and Takeru hated being the center of attention. It wasn't even a family dinner, anyway, since their mother wasn't here.

"That bruise on your shoulder looked pretty painful," Gabumon mumbled suddenly.

Yamato's eyes never left Takeru's face as if he was searching for something. Rested his chopsticks on the table. "Why won't you let us look at it?"

"We could still take you to the hospital," their dad said with a concerned undertone.

"I think I'm full," Takeru said swiftly, standing with enough force that it caused a headrush. "I'll, um, I'll put the leftovers in the fridge for later, ok?"

Yamato stood as well, although his sprained ankle slowed him down, so when he made a move to grab Takeru's wrist, he missed. Grabbed his shoulder instead. His injured one. "Teek, wait—"

Takeru cried out at the sharp pain, releasing the plate in his hand by accident. It fell to the floor, exploding into pieces, and Yamato instantly recoiled. Watched with wide eyes as Takeru curled up, clutching his shoulder. Hot pinpricks of pain shot through him.

His father was by his side in seconds, and so was Gabumon.

"Takeru, I'm sorry," his brother said in a rush, lowering himself to the floor and ignoring the mess of food and glass. "I didn't—"

"I'm definitely taking you to the hospital now," their father said immediately. "Come on, let's get you to the van."

"No!" He'd meant to shout it, but it ended up coming out as a whimper. He shook his head, taking in a deep breath. "I-it's fine. It's just bruised—"

"Let me see," their dad insisted, trying to coax Takeru to put his hand down. "I can't help you if you don't let me look at it, son."

"It's _fine_ —"

"Then _let me see it_ , damn it!"

Their father rarely raised his voice, and that startled Takeru. He continued to shake his head, back and forth, back and forth; and yanked away from him, which hurt even more, but he didn't care. He needed to leave, but there wasn't anywhere he could go. Couldn't run again—they would catch him, no doubt.

So he darted to Yamato's bedroom, slamming the door shut with his foot. It didn't have a lock so he leaned against it, still holding his shoulder. Squeezed his eyes shut.

"You really should have listened to your father."

The voice was calm. Sickeningly sweet. Takeru felt his blood run cold the moment it reached his ears.

_Not again._

When he opened his eyes, a sickly pale man stared back at him.

He inhaled sharply, and it almost turned into a scream, except the man was faster. Pressed an ice-cold hand firmly against Takeru's mouth and the other against the door, holding him and the door in place. Whispered with a wicked smile, "I guess I can block them out for you. If that's what you want."

The doorknob twisted and it shook against its hinges as his family tried to get in, but wouldn't budge.

"Takeru, open this door," his dad's voice called through the wood.

"Please," Yamato added, "we just want to help you."

Takeru tried not to whimper as empty eye sockets, dark and horrifying, bored into his, and slowly, he pulled his hand away. But he put it back moments later when Takeru's lips parted in an attempt to shout.

"Shh... don't speak," he murmured. "You can't let them know I'm here, can you now?"

He was tall and thin. Towered over Takeru with his back arched, skeletal fingers digging into his cheeks, muffling his response. The door behind him continued to quake, bumping Takeru's bruised shoulder, but the man did not release his hold on it. Just stared hollowly at him, thin white lips still poised in a menacing grin.

"Hey, now, Jiro." The second voice echoed around him, careful, and yet strangely cruel. Feminine. Haunting. "We just got here, and the boy already looks ready to piss himself. Back off a little, would you?"

"She's right." Another woman. Sadistic. Horrifyingly enticing. "Give him a little space."

Takeru did not bother looking for the speakers. Sealed his eyes shut. But their voices caused the man to pause, and seconds later, his icy fingers were gone.

"I'm sorry," he—Jiro—whispered, although he did not sound apologetic at all. "I guess I just got excited. Sakauchi _did_ promise us a taste of this one's soul."

"He promised us that _if_ we didn't kill him," the first woman said.

What was that supposed to mean? Who was Sakauchi? This time, Takeru couldn't stop the whimper that escaped him, and now that he was free from the tall man's grip, he ducked under the arm that was holding the door shut and started to run to the other side of the room.

The two women seemed to expect this. Flickered and disappeared. Reappeared right in front of him. He cried out in pain when one of them pushed him forcefully against the wall, causing his phone to tumble out of his pocket and to the floor.

"No one said you could go anywhere," the second woman hissed with a frown, pinning him with an empty stare.

"What do you want from me?" he asked in a quivering voice.

The first woman smiled, but it was not a reassuring smile. It was maniacal. Devilish. Reminded him of Miyuki. "It's not what we want, hun. It's what the Master wants."

No sooner than she said the words, his phone rang. All of them looked down at the device, including Takeru, but the young blond didn't dare move. The first woman bent over slowly and picked it up, her smile widening dangerously. "Hikari."

He didn't like the way she said Hikari's name—like there was something she knew that he didn't. Like something bad was going to happen. It made his stomach churn and twist, and his heartbeat echoed loudly in his ears. He was distantly aware that Yamato and his father were still trying to get into the bedroom, but their shouts fell on deaf ears. Takeru could only focus, horrified, on the woman who held his cell phone.

With the same grin on her face, she flipped the phone open, signaling that she'd answered it. Placed it to Takeru's ear, whispering, "Why don't you put on a little show for us?"

"Be a good human, and we won't hurt you," the second woman purred.

Takeru swallowed heavily, drawing in a breath through his nose. Trembled slightly. Still kept his back against the wall. "Hey," he said into the phone, forcing himself to sound calm.

"Hey. It's me," Hikari said instantly into the phone, but her voice quivered as she spoke. She sounded close to tears.

His eyes widened even further. What had happened that made her cry? She wasn't hurt, was she? "Are you ok, Hikari?"

The second woman giggled—disturbingly childlike and hollow to his own ears—as though his response amused her. She leaned upward to whisper something in the other woman's ear, and her wolfish, deranged grin doubled in size.

"I—I needed to make sure you were ok," Hikari responded tearfully.

"Yeah, I'm ok." Blatant lie.

"Are you sure?"

The three spirits watched him eagerly, awaiting his response with sadistic excitement. He shuddered. Couldn't look into their ghoulish eyes. "M'fine." Felt tears prick at his eyes, but he wasn't sure if it was out of horror or because of how much it hurt to lie to her. "Nii-san says we're going to look for Patamon first thing tomorrow morning."

The lady holding his phone used her other hand to caress his face. He winced instantly because her fingers were unbearably cold, just like the little girl's. Just like Miyuki's. Felt his legs quake when she hissed, "Happy boys don't cry."

"—not planning on doing anything stupid, are you?"

He couldn't do anything at the moment except try to ignore the crawling sensation that the woman's touch left on his skin. Shivered violently. "Like what?"

There was a pause that was instantly filled by the other woman's incessant, ominous giggling.

"Just promise me. Promise me you won't do anything stupid. Alright?"

He did, but couldn't will himself to speak any louder than a whisper. The quiver in her voice was breaking his heart. "Hey, Hika—did something happen? What's wrong?"

"N-nothing happened," she assured, but it didn't make Takeru feel better, especially with these... these demons lurking over him, watching his every move. Laughing at him. Keeping his family out. Why in the heck had he run away from his father? He was petrified and in pain, and they seemed to be enjoying it. How could someone find pleasure in watching somebody writhe in agony?

Hikari continued speaking, but he only heard half of what she had said. Something about him knowing something. But what? He couldn't risk asking her to repeat it, so he just said, "I do know that."

"Uh oh," Jiro said with a gleeful undertone. "He's starting to break, Kei. I think you better end this."

"Say your goodbyes," the woman—Kei, he had called her—commanded immediately.

Takeru complied. He flinched when she snapped the phone shut with more force than necessary before allowing the device to fall to the floor. Takeru remained still, watching with wide eyes as she turned to her two companions.

"I'm very impressed," the other woman praised, seating herself upon Yamato's bed and stroking the sheets as though she found them fascinating. "Saya and Sakauchi did say you were good at pretending."

Saya. He had heard that name before. Takeru searched his mind frantically for the name, all the while looking for an escape route. There wasn't one—the tall man was still leaning against the door and the only other option was Yamato's bedroom window.

"Ah, yes," Kei said while his mind continued to race, walking her fingers up the expanse of Takeru's chest. "They said you were an excellent actor." Poked his chin with enough force to cause pain. "But that's only on the outside, right, hun?" Tugged at his sleeve. "But pull up your sleeve and..."

Takeru's breath hitched and he started to struggle, but she held him down effortlessly. Tsked quietly, razorlike fingernails trailing up his scarred skin. "Oh, honey. You didn't think that would help, did you?" Inched closer. Whispered, "It doesn't matter how much you bleed... we'll still come back. Right, Chiharu?"

"Indeed, my friend. Over and over, until Master decides it's time," Chiharu said with an eerily happy smile.

"But you shouldn't be afraid," Jiro said instantly. "What can we do, anyway? We're just a couple of ghosts."

Takeru stiffened. His words caused the other two women to cackle, and Takeru was finally able to tear his gaze away, but even when he wasn't looking at them, he could still see their soulless, empty eyes. Their disturbing grins. Their words echoed in his head endlessly, and no matter what he did, he could not mute their voices.

His father and brother had stopped beating the door, and Takeru wondered if they were still there or if someone had gotten to them. He had no way to check. Could only whimper, feeling scared and helpless and vulnerable. There were three of them and only one of him. If he put up a fight, he would surely lose. And he didn't want to anger them—had learned his lesson when he'd met Miyuki.

So he stood trembling against the wall, his shoulder throbbing and his heart beating so fast that he was sure he was only minutes away from another episode of panic. But this time there was no one here to soothe him.

No blade to help him.

No sense of control.  
It was a terrifying realization and his eyes felt hot and wet once again.

"Aww," Kei crooned suddenly. "I told you, happy boys don't cry." Her lips curled into a frown. "I bet you wish Patamon was here, huh?"

Patamon. Takeru's eyes popped open and he immediately looked at her, feeling his fear shift into anger. "Where is he? What did you do to him?"

Chiharu appeared pleasantly surprised at his reaction. "Ooh, I think you struck a nerve, Kei."

"Where is he?" he repeated heatedly, starting to push himself off of the wall. "If you hurt him—"

But Chiharu was there first, pushing him back. Takeru crippled to the floor in pain, and she followed him with that same wicked, devilish grin. "Silly boy. We have no control over what happens to your precious partner. He's in Master's custody."

Before he could respond, she poked at his injured shoulder. He gasped, which only made her poke harder, laughing maniacally. "That hurts a lot, doesn't it?"

"S-stop," he stammered, trying to swat her hand away and missing. " _Stop—_ "

She shook her head. Made a fist. Takeru steeled himself for the impact, but when she struck him, her hand didn't make contact with him.

It went right _through_ him.

Takeru felt incredibly cold on the inside and out, and he shuddered intensely. Another gasp left his lips as the painful, icy sensation pulsed through every part of him—his shoulder, his chest, his arms, his legs—and he groaned. "Wh-what're you d-doing to me?"

He'd only felt this kind of coldness once before: right before his Onii-san was taken to the hospital. When he'd passed through the children.

Chiharu did not answer. Did not remove her hand. Simply looked at her arm with a disappointed, yet curious expression. "I think our time is almost up."

"For fuck's sake," Jiro cursed, slamming his hand violently against the door. His fist, too, slid right through the wood, and the door creaked open slightly.

He heard his brother's voice whisper his name, hopeful and concerned, but the horrible coldness creeping through his body was starting to drain what was left of his energy. He was too weak to reply. In seconds, there was a scraping sound.

It happened too fast for Takeru to properly register it. The electricity flickered on and off. Yamato's bed—the mattress and the frame—flew against the door, slamming it shut again so violently that there were dents in the wall and in the wood. Jiro faded away before blinking back into existence right next to Chiharu, intimidating and angry, and then the air around them rippled.

Disembodied whispers echoed around him. Indistinct. Staticky. A hole started to form from the ripple, very small at first. Then it doubled in size. Grew bigger. Bigger. Two small, hauntingly familiar figures stepped through the hole.

The two children. And they did not look happy.

"What is going _on_ in there?!"

" _OPEN THIS DOOR,_ TAKERU!"

Takeru whimpered in response to Yamato's and his dad's voices, his whole body trembling so badly that there was no way he could regain control. He could not move. Not even when Chiharu finally removed her hand. Not even when the little boy, radiating with rage, soared toward him, wrapping small but powerful fingers around his neck.

"She tried to _purify_ us," he hissed vehemently, cold, cold fingernails digging into Takeru's already frozen flesh. Tiny tendrils of darkness slicked at the boy's too-pale skin. "How _dare_ she do that! How dare you protect that witch!"

"Sakauchi, please, don't—" the little girl started.

_"Don't touch me!"_

Takeru's shout of agony was once again muted. The boy slammed him against the wall. Hard. Spots danced around his vision, but the boy demanded that his voice was heard.

"I should have killed your brother when I had the chance! I should have killed your friends! I should have killed everyone—how dare she think we need help!"

His words echoed. Frightening. Almost demonic. The power continued to flicker. The whole room seemed to be shaking. Takeru couldn't breathe—the boy's hand was still wrapped around his neck, crushing his windpipe. His hands couldn't move to pry it off. The darkness tugging at the ghost boy was inching its way toward Takeru, and he couldn't fight it.

"Onii-chan, DON'T!"

A cry of pain. An explosion of darkness. Several seconds of absolute silence.

Then the hand was gone, and Takeru gasped loudly before spiraling into a coughing fit. Words were said, but Takeru couldn't make them out. Was consumed by pain. Before he could even begin to recover, a voice hissed, "I can't kill you. Yet. But I can make you suffer just like she made us suffer."

The little girl, as well as the rest of the demented spirits, were pinned against the wall, and the other child was heading toward the door. Yamato was still behind that door, and so was his father. What did he want to do to them? Something horrible, Takeru knew; and even though he desperately wanted to pass out, Takeru had to stop him.

Head spinning, Takeru rasped, "W-w-wait!"

Everything went still. The young boy turned around achingly slowly, visibly pulsing with barely-repressed anger. " _What?_ "

"D-don't hurt them," he pleaded breathlessly, attempting to sit up and failing miserably. "P-please. I—I'll do whatever it takes, just... just please, don't h-hurt them..."

It was foolish and desperate. But no matter the consequences, he had to protect his family and his friends. Had to save Patamon.

"Whatever it takes, huh?" His voice became quiet. Thoughtful. "So... you'd come back with me to Master's?"

Still catching his breath, Takeru nodded and whispered, "J-just promise you won't hurt them."

The boy paused, considering. His body disappeared and reappeared inches closer to Takeru. Then it faded again and returned. Flickered like static, closer. Closer. Closer.

Then he was centimeters away from Takeru's face, inky tendrils whirling around him. "Alright, Hope. I won't hurt them."

Takeru relaxed slightly, but his relief was short-lived when the boy's hand pressed against his collarbone. Lower. Lower. Found the space just between his ribs, where his heart thumped violently.

Dipped his fingers into Takeru's skin.

Squeezed.

Takeru slipped into darkness in seconds.


	19. Two Children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **a/n:** i am so sorry. this is already written and i just keep forgetting to post!

"Crawling in my skin, these wounds, they will not heal. Fear is how I fall, confusing what is real." — Crawling, Linkin Park

* * *

**Ch 19 || Two Children**

"No, Taichi, he's _gone,_ " Yamato said frantically into his phone, frustrated and afraid and really, really tired of having to repeat himself. "As in, there one moment and suddenly just _not_ there. I have no fucking idea where he went."

He was sitting down at the table, rubbing his forehead just to give his hand something to do. His good leg was bouncing anxiously on its own accord, and it was getting harder and harder to keep his breathing under control.

Because he sounded insane. It _was_ insane. Takeru had literally disappeared behind his bedroom door. Everything in his room was destroyed, and there was absolutely no way Takeru could make such a mess all by himself. He'd told Taichi as much, and only received a bunch of questions in reply.

"No, there's no computer in my room," he went on. "I don't even know where his digivice is, or if he had it on him. No, no, I have his phone—yeah, he's hurt. He's in no shape to run off again—physically or mentally—and I think Dad and I would have noticed if he tried to sneak past us. Taichi. _Taichi_ —please, just get here, fast—"

He stopped as Taichi drew in a quick breath on the other side after taking all of this in, and then, hurriedly: "O-ok. Ok, I'm going to get Hikari and we'll be over there as soon as we can. I'll see if I can get in contact with anyone else."

"Please hurry," Yamato said tremulously. There was a click on the other end, signaling that Taichi had ended the call, and Yamato had the overwhelming urge to throw his phone across the room.

Knowing acting on that impulse would solve nothing, he set it on the table, releasing an angry sigh. Seconds later, his father stepped back into the room, looking every bit as lost as Yamato felt.

He put his phone on the table as well, raking a shaky hand through his hair. "I got ahold of your mother. She's trying to get out of work right now."

"Did you explain everything?"

"How could I?" his father said with a bark of laughter that lacked humor—a hollow echo of the one he'd produced just before they'd started dinner. "I'm just as confused as you are right now, son. There's no way she'd believe me if—"

"I know, I know." Yamato threw his hands up in exasperation. "It's just—gah, I was just on the phone with her, telling her everything was fine, and now... now it's _not_ fine, Takeru is gone, and he's hurt, and I lied and said he wasn't hurt because Takeru didn't want her to worry, and—"

"Hey." Dad's hands came to rest on his shoulders, and he looked him dead in the eye. "We're going to figure this out."

"How do you know that?"

"Do you think this is the first time one of my kids has disappeared into thin air?"

Yamato rubbed his forehead again, aggravated. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"It's not," he said gravely. "But let's just take a moment and think about this, ok?"

"Dad, this is the second time he's disappeared today. We were just lucky that Jou caught up with him in time. On top of that, he's hurt... and we don't know how badly."

As he said the words, a wave of guilt rushed over him. This _was_ the second time Takeru had gone missing. And _Jou_ had been the one who chased him down and spoke some sense into him. _Jou_ had brought him out of that state of panic. _Jou_ was there to stop him from doing something stupid or reckless. Yamato had shown up _afterward_ and only knew that his brother had run off because Koushiro had called him.

"I should have been there, with him," Yamato murmured as he rested his head in his arms. "Maybe if I'd—"

"You mustn't blame yourself, Yamato," Gabumon interrupted softly, and Yamato's response was an empty laugh.

"I'm his brother—"

"And I'm his father," Dad said. "Believe me, I'm worried, too, but blaming yourself isn't going to find him. Trust me, that's just going to make things worse."

"What I am supposed to do?" Yamato snapped, his fingers curling into fists. His guilt shape-shifted into anger. "Even before today, he's been acting strangely. He won't talk to me—no matter how much I asked, he always shrugged me off; told me he was fine. And you saw how scared he was! Jou even said he had a panic attack, and Mom said he—"

" _Damn it_ , Yamato," Dad hissed suddenly, slamming his hand down on the table. "I know. I know that he needed to go to the hospital. I know he was scared. But there's nothing we can do about that now because—"

He stopped and deflated after several moments, and it was the first time in a while that Yamato had seen him so worked up. As his father drew in a deep breath, Yamato looked at his hands. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"No, don't be sorry," he said softly. "None of this is your fault, ok? We... we just need to cool our heads, wait for your friends, and think about our next move."

"Right," Yamato muttered, biting his lip. "We wait."

_Hopefully, not for long,_ he added silently.

* * *

Taichi and Hikari had arrived first. They were a mess—both of them were in sleepwear and looked exhausted. Sora was next, followed by an extremely worried Mimi, who was peeved because she hadn't even been informed about Takeru's _first_ disappearance, let alone the second one; but Yamato was so agitated and confused that he didn't want to start explaining.

So he didn't. He briefly showed the four of them his bedroom, and it wasn't long before Jou, Gomamon, Koushiro, and Tentomon showed up. Hikari had said sometime earlier that she had used Taichi's d-terminal to send messages out to Ken, Daisuke, Iori, and Miyako, but had only heard from two out of the four of them. So now they were sitting in his living room, not knowing where to start.

Except the looks on everyone's faces made him feel even more uneasy. It seemed like they knew something he didn't.

"What is it?" he asked instantly, scanning the room suspiciously. "You all saw the room. What're you guys thinking? Because I can tell something is up, and damn it, I want answers."

There was silence, at first. Taichi, Tailmon, and Hikari shared a long, mysterious look, but when the brunette opened her mouth to speak, there was another knock on the door.

"I'll get—" Yamato started, making a move to stand. But his father beat him to it, pushing him back into the chair he'd been forced to sit in.

"You've moved around enough on that ankle." Even though he looked worried as hell, his voice remained stern. "I'll get it."

He did. Yamato shoulders slumped in exasperated defeat, having no choice but to obey, and watched him go in frustration. Inclined his head in the direction of the door, wondering distantly who it could have been this time.

"I'm sorry it took so long," his mother's voice apologized as soon as his father widened the door enough to let her in. "I tried to get out as early as I could, but my boss—and the traffic—"

She stopped dead in her tracks when she realized how many kids and digimon were sitting in the living room, and she took several moments to study all of them. She frowned, looked at Yamato's father, and then at Yamato. She gazed back at his friends, and her eyes widened upon noticing the absence of her second son.

"Where is Takeru?"

He glanced at his father for help because, fuck, he wasn't sure if he could handle trying to retell everything that had happened in the past hour _again._ "He's, um, he's not here, Mom."

"Where is he, then?" The despair that flitted across her face caused Yamato's stomach to twist. When she received no reply from him, she looked at her ex-husband. "Where is our _son,_ Hiro?"

"We don't know," Hikari replied woodenly when neither of them dared to speak.

His mother looked at her with a heartbroken, baffled expression, and Yamato realized that they all had no choice but to talk. He couldn't keep this a secret—and she deserved to know. Not to mention the evidence was right in front of him, and the faster he got to speak, the faster they could come up with a plan.

He drew in a shaky breath. Everyone remained quiet as Yamato launched into an explanation of the day's chaotic events, trying not to leave out any important details. From Koushiro's phone call to what had taken place barely half an hour ago. Yamato did, however, omit his private conversation with Jou, where he had talked to him about his little brother's panic attack. Considering Jou was in the room, it didn't feel necessary, anyway. There were several points where his mother did seem ready to jump in to protest but was politely hushed by her ex-husband.

Near the end of his confession, his father guided her to his bedroom. She inhaled sharply in obvious surprise and disbelief as she drank in its current state. When Yamato was entirely finished, her face had lost all of its color and this time, she did not bother to hide her tears. Her lower lip trembled. "You knew he was injured and you didn't take him to the hospital?"

It was meant for his dad. The older man's face contorted with regret and shame. "...he wouldn't let me."

"You're his _parent_ —you should have taken him there anyway," she retorted quickly.

"I _tried_ , but when I told him that he didn't have a choice, he ran off—"

"Probably because you _yelled_ —"

"I did _not_ yell at—"

"Yamato said—"

"Hey," Yamato snapped loudly, glaring at the two of them. "Not _now,_ ok? Takeru is _missing—_ and bickering is _not_ going to change that fact. Dad did the best he could, Mom. Takeru would barely let us touch him, he was that freaked out. I know that I shouldn't have kept all of that from you, but it was what Takeru wanted. Not that I should have listened to him, but there's nothing we can do about that now. And if we didn't do what he wanted, how would we have explained this to the doctors? And it's not like we could call the police. He was hurt in another _dimension_. Who would believe that? So please..."

Yamato had run out of steam. It was obvious when he visibly deflated as some of his friends stared, wide-eyed and pale, at the three of them. It was awkward, he realized, and not to mention humiliating.

"Can you two not fight for once?" he finished quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache.

There was a long, pregnant pause. His mother looked at her hands in shame and his father glanced at both of them apologetically. Just when it seemed that his dad was going to speak, there was a sharp intake of breath from the other side of the room.

Mimi was sitting up straight. "Oh, my god, guys." She was off the floor in seconds, making her way toward the shaken-up brunette standing across from Yamato. "Hikari, when did you take this picture?"

Hikari blinked slowly before taking her camera out of Mimi's hands and looking at the screen. She appeared confused for a few moments, and when her eyes went wide, Yamato scoffed. He hadn't even noticed that Hikari had _brought_ her camera, and what was Mimi doing looking through it?

"Great. I'm trying to figure out what the hell is going on with my brother, and you're looking at pictures?"

"No, no, no, Yamato. That's just it. Look at this," she persisted.

Before he could reply, the device was shoved into his hands and he rolled his eyes before looking down at it.

It was his brother, laughing happily. Teeth showing. Eyes alight and shining. Face full of life and color. An expression he hadn't seen in a while. Yamato brows shot up and he looked at Mimi with a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"Look closer," she insisted upon noticing his expression, and when she pointed at the screen she added, " _There,_ Yamato. Don't you see that?"

He complied, and for a moment he saw nothing. Just Takeru, surrounded by luscious green grass and a beautiful blue sky. His frown deepened, teeth slamming together in frustration. "Mimi—"

Wait a second.

Yamato squinted and blinked, closing his mouth instantly. It was faint, but there was something... something... he looked harder. What was...?

His eyes went wide. The hem of a dress. Hands. Hollow cheeks. A person. That was another person—a small person—standing right behind his blissfully unaware brother. "Wh-what the hell?"

"What?" Taichi said as he looked over Yamato's shoulder. "What is—" Then, frantically: "Oh, god."

Soon everyone was gathering around. His parents, Sora, Jou, Koushiro. A collective gasp rippled through the small group moments later, and their expressions mirrored Yamato's as they all caught a glimpse of the apparition. It wasn't until Hikari spoke that they looked away.

"That's her," she said in a shaky voice. "That's—that's the little girl that I saw earlier!"

Yamato's stomach twisted all of a sudden and felt as though whatever he'd eaten an hour ago was going to come back up. He looked at Hikari's pale face and then at the camera again, and back at her. "The little... girl."

A girl. A child. His skin crawled out of nowhere and confusion bulleted through his mind. Alongside it was a strange pull—like little hands were tugging at something in his brain. Slowly at first. Then harder. Harder.

She saw a girl. Why did he feel as though he knew that girl? He blinked and mentally shook himself, but the sensation did not fade. Tried again. Looked up when someone said his name.

"Are you alright?" Gabumon asked him worriedly when his brows inched upward quizzically.

"Y-yeah, just..." He blinked again and then leveled his gaze upon Hikari once more. The pull disappeared as he focused on her. "Who is she? Where did you see her?"

_And what the hell is she doing standing behind Takeru?_

Hikari shared a look with Tailmon, and her hesitance to reply made Yamato even more uneasy. Then she glanced at Taichi, and her expression became sympathetic and fearful.

"I saw her just before you called," Hikari said softly, with tears gathering in her eyes. "I... I didn't say anything at first because I wanted to wait until everyone was here, but, Yamato... she's the one who hurt you. She and her brother are the ones after Takeru and they're the ones who took Patamon."

There was a boy, too? He grimaced. Two children. Two children, after his brother. What did they want from him? And what did she mean, stole his memories? The uncomfortable feeling was back as quickly as it had faded, and he sighed in frustration because it was stronger.

"I'm ok," he said, softer than intended, when multiple pairs of eyes fell upon him. But he winced again as soon as the words left his lips, and out of instinct, he rubbed his forehead.

Things blinked in and out of darkness for several moments. One second, he was looking down at his partner and the next, his mother was staring at him, inches away from his face, extremely concerned. He could barely register what she was saying.

"M'ok," he repeated quietly, probably more than once. Except each mumbled sentence was accompanied by the unpleasant pull, and he couldn't fight it anymore. It was beginning to hurt. The invisible hands were pounding.

"Son, what's wrong?"

Tugging.

"Yamato?"

Ripping.

"... _Nii-san...!_ "

"There's something...in my head," he said in a whisper.

A sharp pain splintered through his brain in an instant. He felt his entire body tingle, and the world went sideways without warning.

Voices. They exploded around him, distorted and loud, and everything else faded. His friends. His parents. The digimon. He couldn't feel the floor beneath him, not even as his body collided with it. Was vaguely aware of hands reaching for him the second he went down. He squeezed his eyes shut, and an image of his mother's sad smile flitted across his mind—

" _I think he's been having nightmares—"_

—and a purple pill bottle, rolling onto the floor—

" _It was cold in my room."_

—his brother looking at the sidewalk, with Yamato and their digimon at his side—

_"I'm sorry I didn't answer your message."_

—frustration and anxiety claiming Takeru's face—

_"It's me, ok?"_

_—_ he looked at Patamon—

" _If I told you, you'd think I'm crazy."_

_—_ his hands were shaking, eyes filled with tears—

"— _it was so real—"_

—and he looked at Patamon again, fingers threading together nervously—

_"...I've been having nightmares about those children."_

_—_ and the roaring of the wind, and running—

" _Nii-san_ , run _."_

—and running—

" _What're we running from, Takeru?"_

—and running—

And ru—

_"Boo."_

Limp curls. Empty eye sockets. Blood. The little girl. That same little girl from the picture, chasing him around and his brother around, giggling. Her face faded and reappeared in his mind over and over again, ghostly pale and smiling sadistically. The images in his head just kept coming, and there was so much fear, so much blood, so much screaming, so much darkness...

"...mato... Yamato, honey, please, look at me. I need you to open your eyes."

He did. Slowly. But everything was blurry and disorienting. Foggy. He was pretty sure he was moving, but his body felt as though it did not belong to him. Some sort of sound escaped his lips, but it wasn't a coherent sentence.

"...think he had some sort of seizure?"

"...hospital..."

"...wait... happened before..."

"...think he remembered...?"

"... _Yamato_...!"

A door clicked. Voices kept speaking, but the images were fading. Fading... He couldn't focus on anything. It was a whirlwind of muffled sounds and fuzzy outlines of people. People. He was surrounded by people... His parents. Taichi. Hikari. Sora... Jou... Takeru...

No, not Takeru. Takeru was gone. Takeru was taken by that girl. She took him to a house... a forest... some sort of forest...

Shit. _Shit._

Yamato said it out loud, but his voice was too soft. Too breathy. He blinked repeatedly, waiting for the fog to lift, for his vision to focus, for the room around him to stand still...

Standing still. His stomach wasn't doing that. His stomach was twisting. Rolling. Clenching. He was... oh, no.

"Someone get him a bucket, he's gonna—"

The rest of Jou's sentence went unheard as Yamato released a shuddering breath. Something plastic brushed against his fingers and before he knew it he was heaving until his throat felt raw.

If he had the strength, he would have tried to leave the room so his friends wouldn't see. But he was too weak to think about pride, and by the time his dinner was done revisiting him, he realized that he didn't even have time to care.

"He told me _everything_ ," he sputtered immediately, trying to swat away the hand that brushed against his forehead and missing entirely. "Guys, Takeru, he—he told me everything that day that—" He was forced to stop when a cough ripped itself out of his throat, and he could feel stomach acid trying to crawl up his esophagus. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to cram everything back down.

"Yamato, wait for a second," Gabumon started.

"Take a moment to recover, will you?" his father added.

"No, Dad, Gabumon, you don't understand—the girl in the picture, she's taken him before—"

"Wh-what the heck?"

Yamato's head snapped in the direction of the somewhat familiar voice, and it was then that he realized more kids had arrived. Ken and Daisuke stood wide-eyed by the door (it had been Koushiro who let them in, the back of his mind noticed), looking every bit as shaken up as everyone else in the room. It was all wide eyes and trembling fingers and pale faces.

Because Yamato's bedroom door was still open, revealing the unexplained disaster that was left when Takeru disappeared. His friends, mother, father, and their digimon surrounded him in a circle that suddenly felt crowded, and Yamato was still on the floor, sweating profusely and shivering, still holding the small trash bin he'd thrown up in.

"What happened?" Daisuke asked when everyone fell quiet.

"No time to explain," Hikari said without hesitation, and her expression was solemn when she moved the puke bucket away from Yamato and looked him dead in the eye. "What did you remember?"

"Everything," he repeated quickly, ignoring the way his heart pounded in his chest as he pulled at his hair. "How could I forget all of that? He told me about the nightmares, the children, the lake, and the house—it's no wonder he was so scared back at the hospital—!"

"Hold up," Taichi said, his face a mixture of fear and frustration. "So this girl in the picture... the one Hikari saw... has been after him since summer started?"

"And he kept it a secret," Sora whispered forlornly.

"I don't understand," the keeper of Friendship heard his mother say, and when he looked at her, he saw that her face was awash with tears. "How could we not have noticed? How could he be in so much pain and keep it to himself?" Her shoulders shook silently as she buried her head in her hands. "How could they hurt my baby for so long, and then force him to tell me he's fine?"

"He was scared," Ken answered softly without having to be prompted.

"Those children threatened him," Hikari murmured. "They told him they'd kill all of us if he said a word."

"That's why they went after Patamon," Koushiro added abruptly, seeming to catch on. "That's why they hurt you, Yamato."

"Every time he slipped, they went after the ones closest to him," Jou continued.

Tailmon nodded sadly. "He lied to us to protect us."

That was enough. Yamato's fist slammed so hard against the wooden floor that it hurt, and he released a cry of raw frustration and anguish. He was so angry he felt as though he would throw up again. "And that's why he ran off in the first place, isn't it? That's why he's gone again. They wanted to hurt us, so he left with them to keep us safe."

"And nobody knows where he went," Taichi said with an aggravated undertone, his fists clenched as well.

Everyone fell silent. There was nothing to say—Yamato had known somewhere in the back of his mind that there was something wrong with his brother. But who would have expected this? He could feel his eyes burn with tears but he refused to let them fall: it would not solve anything. It would not help save his brother. They were just wasting time. They needed to stop talking and start taking action.

" _You can't save him_."

Multiple pairs of eyes landed on the speaker. Yamato's head snapped up, and when he spoke, his voice was echoed by Hikari's: "What did you just say?"

Mimi's eyes were glossy and unfocused and she did not respond, at first. Just stood there robotically, as if lost in a memory. Yamato's brows shot up, and his father shook her shoulder gently. This caused her to glance up, and she repeated in a distant voice, "You can't save him."

"Why not?" Gomamon exclaimed heatedly.

"What're you talking about, Mimi?" Palmon asked worriedly, reaching for her hand.

She looked at Yamato after a moment, and when she blinked, her eyes returned to normal. She swallowed heavily. "I thought it was talking about you, Yamato. But... but it's talking about Takeru, isn't it?"

"Where did you hear that?" Hikari said, her face losing its color.

"When I got back from America," Mimi continued woodenly. "That thing happened to Yamato. I heard a voice..."

"That was my brother."

A shudder rippled through Yamato's body. Something cold rested on his arm, and his first instinct was to get away from it. But when his eyes found the source of the voice, he found himself unable to move.

She was little: barely four feet tall and sickly thin. She was bruised and incredibly pale. Her eyes were empty and soulless, just like they were that day. But she was not grinning.

Animalistic sounds echoed around him. Tailmon hissed. Agumon and Gabumon growled. Warm hands hurried to move Yamato off the floor and into his father's chair. Gasps and indistinct murmurs filled his ears. He was suddenly aware of the throbbing in his ankle but was too shocked to care.

"Don't you fucking touch him," he heard his father say, and his voice was filled with so much anger and hatred that Yamato had a hard time believing it was his dad speaking. But a glance upward told him that there no mistaking it, and he couldn't help but look back at the being who had conjured such a reaction out of him.

She had not moved. Just stared hollowly, crackled lips positioned in a frown that seemed permanent. He rubbed the arm she had touched, wondering how such a brief contact could leave him feeling so cold, on the inside and out. Could feel words bubble in the back of his throat, but before they could be released, she took a step back.

"I did not come here to inflict harm on anyone," she said quietly, and when she rose her hands as if to surrender, Yamato saw the spatters of dried blood that dotted her skin. "I only wish to speak with—"

Gabumon stood protectively in front of Yamato with one paw outstretched, ruby eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I think you've done enough here."

Once more, the child remained unmoving as if held in place by something Yamato could not see. Her frown did not fade. Her expression didn't change at all. Not even the slightest hint of emotion crossed her grotesque features.

Maybe that was why Yamato felt the rage building inside him begin to implode on itself. Every ounce of shock dissipated instantly and was replaced by white-hot anger. "Tell me where my brother is. That's the only thing I'm interested in talking about."

She looked into his eyes, briefly. Then her head tilted to one side as if she were confused. Yamato must have blinked or something because between one heartbeat and the next, she was closer to him. He tensed slightly and his eyes narrowed just a little as the lights flashed.

"I... I can tell you where my brother has taken him," she whispered in a young voice, but as she spoke, her neck turned mechanically so she was facing Hikari. "But... could I ask you something first, bearer of Light?"

Yamato glanced at Hikari, watching as her expression shifted from shocked to pensive. Tailmon began to hiss again, but Hikari knelt down and gathered the kitten digimon in her arms in an attempt to quiet her. As the girl took a step closer, Hikari remained still and quiet. Everyone else reacted instantly.

"What're you—?" Daisuke began.

"Hikari, don't—" Taichi started.

"Keep away from her," Agumon said dangerously. Their exclamations were echoed by many other voices, including Yamato's parents. Hikari merely stared.

The little girl complied, however. Her body shimmered but stayed in place. An ominous shadow lurked over her face as her gaze weaved from one Chosen's face to another, before finally landing on Yamato's again.

"I understand why you are angry." Her voice was empty. "I have done terrible things. I have slipped into Hope's dreams. I have observed him for weeks. I have made him lie. I have sent threats. I have broken his bond with you. My brother was the one who constructed a barrier in your"—she nodded her head toward Yamato—"mind to keep you from interfering with Master's plans and I was the one who injured you. We have sabotaged every one of your efforts to track us. But... things were not supposed to turn out this way."

She turned back to Hikari. "When you attempted to purify my brother, he was afraid. He was angry. He acted impulsively and wished to cause harm to Hope's family. Hope agreed to go with him to keep that from happening. But whatever Sakauchi is planning next, I am not sure. He needs to be stopped."

A low murmur broke out. Yamato himself was confused—Hikari had said she had seen these children, but attempt to purify them? "What does she mean by that?"

Hikari's fingers slipped beneath the collar of her shirt. When she pulled them back out, Yamato's eyes widened along with several others.

There was her crest, glowing brightly in response to her touch. It pulsed visibly as she stared at it with a neutral expression.

"You want me to try again," Hikari stated softly, not looking up from the trinket.

"I..." There was a slight pause. She hesitated but then took a step closer to Hikari, and this time, everyone present was seemingly too shocked to say anything. Especially when Hikari's crest reacted to the girl's movements.

Its glow brightened, and when the sickly pale child glanced up, her face changed entirely for a moment. There was no blood. Her sunken cheeks became fuller and filled with color; and for a quick, quick second, her eyes flashed brown.

She switched back instantly. But Yamato saw a _real_ human standing there. She'd looked like an ordinary child—there was no mistaking it.

"I can feel how warm you are," she murmured after a pause that was filled with only sharp inhales of surprise and wonder. Yamato immediately noticed that her voice had changed once again: she sounded so young, so fragile. "It has been a long time since I've felt that kind of warmth. I've forgotten what it was like."

Hikari met her gaze evenly with a glint in her eye that Yamato had never seen before. Her face did not melt into the warm smile that she wore so often. It was indifferent and foreign. "Your brother wants to hurt our friend. How do I know you're not going to trick us?"

It was then that she faced Yamato again. "Takeru is your brother, yes?"

He worked his jaw, instantly fixing a glare on her. His fingers dug into the arm of his father's chair. "Yes."

"And he means a lot to you?"

"He means the world to me," Yamato said without hesitation.

She smiled. It was thin and eerie, but still, it was a smile. She continued, "Sakauchi is my brother, and he means the world to me. I fear he has been so corrupted by the powers of darkness that I am not sure if he is the same person anymore. If there is any way to bring him back, I will do it. Even if that means betraying Master's orders."

He had not been expecting that at all. Blinked a few times in surprise. Glanced at Hikari with a quizzical expression, but she was not looking in his direction. She'd turned to face her own brother, and then Sora. Koushiro. Daisuke. Ken. Jou. Mimi. Then her eyes wandered to his parents, who were understandably pale and quiet.

"You'll lead us to Takeru, then?" the bearer of Light said, clutching her crest tightly. "You'll give us our friend back, and you'll leave him alone?"

"I'll do everything I can," she answered swiftly, and, to Yamato's surprise, she dropped to her knees in a bow. "I'll take you to Master's."

Once again, many of them shared odd and uncertain looks. Yamato cleared his throat to catch the ghost child's attention again. She looked up at him briefly but then resumed in her bow, and he said, "Who is your Master?"

There was no response for several heartbeats. Yamato's eyes narrowed but he remained quiet. Then, in a timid voice: "It is not safe for me or you to disclose that information."

"Why not?" Daisuke asked, but he was promptly hushed by a solemn-looking Ken.

Yamato raised his brows in suspicion, and before he could reply, his mother asked tearfully, "Wherever it is that Takeru is... will they make it in time to save him?"

"I am unsure of whether or not he has been harmed," she replied with a shameful undertone. "But as I said before, I will do whatever I can if it means you will save Sakauchi."

Silence followed her words. It stretched around them like a freshly-woven spider web, slick and dangerous. Yamato was uncertain of what to say once again—it was difficult to process this much information, especially since he was still trying to wrap his head around the idea that there was a _ghost_ in the middle of the room. His lips parted several times, but just when he thought he'd found his voice, Hikari spoke.

"When do we leave?"

"Whenever you are ready. But there is... one problem." Her voice was low. "Your partners possess incredible power. Master will be able to sense it if all of you accompany me."

"So that means," Koushiro started uncertainly, "that only a select few of us can go?"

She nodded grimly. "Correct."

Yamato clenched his fists. "I'm definitely going. He's my brother."

Hikari glanced at him shortly and then nodded as if to herself. "I'm going."

Yamato immediately noticed that Taichi had rested a hand on Hikari's shoulder as if to say that he would be going as well. Others chimed in and it wasn't long before a chorus erupted through the entire group, but it died when the girl rose from her position and blinked out of existence. She appeared again half a second later, but this time she was a few feet closer to Yamato. She did this several times, and before he knew it, she was reaching for his neck.

Gabumon spat and growled instinctively, forcing her to stop, and he could feel his mother place a protective hand on his shoulder. The brunette girl gazed emptily up at Yamato, a frown marring her face once again. "I was not trying to harm you. There is something you have yet to notice."

She pointed at his shirt. Yamato's brows shot up and he followed her small finger, and he gasped loudly when he saw a faint blue light emitting beneath the fabric. He felt warmth bubble through him the moment his eyes landed on the source of the light, and he wondered how the hell he hadn't noticed that his crest was around his neck. "Wh-what the...?"

"Perhaps it came to you when you broke the barrier," the ghost said thoughtfully. She looked over at Mimi and said, "You have one, too."

Mimi's eyes popped wide and her gaze instantly snapped downward. A soft glow spewed just below her collarbone, an emerald echo of Yamato's crest. She appeared just as confused as Yamato felt upon seeing it, and it was obvious that the rest of their friends had many questions to ask, but there was no time. The girl hurried to make that clear:

"The portal I'm going to open will lead you to Master's." A soft pause. "Are you ready?"

Yamato offered a glance at his parents, whose expressions were grim and tearful. But they both nodded. His mother reached over to squeeze his hand tightly, and after a moment of silence, she said, "You're still hurt..."

"Mom, Takeru needs me," he said instantly. "Takeru needs _us._ This is nothing."

"But—"

"Stand up," the ghost commanded suddenly, cutting his mom off. The words were directed toward Yamato, who just looked back at her quizzically. "Just do it," she said when he hesitated.

He did. Steeled himself for the sharp tug of pain that always came as he put pressure on his ankle, even going as far as biting his lip to distract himself. But as he pushed himself upward, it never came.

He blinked. More than once. Looked down at his ankle in shock, feeling his eyes pop. "It doesn't hurt."

His father was the first to react. "What do you mean?"

"It feels just fine," he answered softly. "It was hurting just a few minutes ago... what...?" He leaned down and started to unstrap the boot, barely noticing when his father placed a hand on his back to help keep him steady. When it was completely off, he wiggled all of his toes experimentally. Rolled his ankle around a few times. Lifted his leg and let it fall to the ground slowly. Frowned slightly.

"Dude, this has officially surpassed weird," Daisuke whispered out of nowhere.

"It must have been your crest," Hikari said, her voice strangely ominous. "When... when mine came to me, it healed all of my bruises and cuts. I don't know how exactly, but it just... the light was so warm. I didn't even notice until Nii-san told me."

Yamato looked down at the trinket around his neck once again, and he looked back up at his mother and father. "I... I guess that takes care of that," he said quietly. Then, to his friends: "We can't all go, obviously. So..."

"I said I'm going," Hikari said evenly.

"Me, too," Taichi added without hesitation.

Yamato nodded. Mimi quietly chimed that she was ready to go as well despite still feeling and looking incredibly confused, and Sora instantly stood and echoed her response. It was decided that Koushiro, Daisuke, Jou, and Ken would remain there and wait with Yamato's parents. Miyako and Iori still weren't here, and if they did arrive, someone would have to be there to explain what had occurred.

The girl scanned the room one last time with those soulless black eyes of hers. Yamato met her gaze evenly before he turned to his parents. He extended an arm to squeeze his mom's shoulder, and it wasn't much, but it conveyed the message she needed to hear: not to worry.

"We're going to bring him back in one piece," he assured when his mother's eyes clouded with tears. "I promise."

She smiled wetly, nodded, and squeezed his hand tenderly.

He hoped she couldn't feel him shaking.


	20. Say Good Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **a/n:** ah-ha! i remembered to post!! take _that_ adhd
> 
> quick warning: this is where the tags listed above and the rating come into play. please be safe.

"I see the streets burn, along with all my memories. I'm losing all my sanity. I can't hide from the voice that speaks inside of me." — Street Dreams, Hollywood Undead

* * *

**Ch 20 || Say Good Night**

Takeru awoke sluggishly. It took a worrying amount of effort to figure out how to move, and his limbs were heavy. His head was pounding—an unpleasant echo of the ache from earlier. Every part of him throbbed and pleaded for relief, but it was long in coming. He blinked a few more times, each one slow and painful, but his eyes failed to find anything to focus on.

Darkness bled around him like water on a cloth, cold and unwelcoming. There was too much shadow. Too much left for his imagination to wander. He didn't know where he was or what he was doing here and trying to remember only made the pain radiating through his body worse.

"Onii...Onii-san?" he croaked out quietly, unable to stifle the cough that accompanied the name. "Onii-san, wh— _ouch."_

Something sharp scraped against the inside of his wrist. He winced, slowly becoming aware of the coldness underneath him. Pressed one of his palms against the floor, fingers tingling and stinging as if being pricked by invisible pins. Concrete. He was sitting on concrete. His hand ceased in its movements when they brushed against something metallic.

"I wouldn't struggle that much if I were you," a voice whispered, young, but unexpected and ominous enough to draw a shiver out of Takeru. "I had to make sure you would not run as soon as you woke."

It didn't take long for the words to register. His eyes widened slightly, and he felt his heart clench underneath the confines of his ribcage. But he paid no heed to the voice's warning.

"Onii-san! ONII-SAN!"

"Shut _up!_ "

He was yanked back violently, and there was no way of quieting the scream that slipped past his lips. White-hot pain flooded through his shoulder, so raw and sudden that it left him shaking. It wasn't long before his cry of agony was reduced to a whimper and the voice continued: "Do you remember, Hope? You said you would come back to Master's. 'Onii-san' is not here."

Breathing heavily, Takeru thought. Everything was hazy. His eyes squeezed shut tightly, and when he opened them again, swampy black eyes loomed in front of his face.

An instinctive, sharp gasp rose in his throat and he tried backpedaling, but that only caused more pain so he forced himself to stop. At first, it was only eyes. Then the boy's entire face came into view, shuddering in and out of the inky darkness like fluttering moth wings.

"I can numb your pain, briefly. If that will keep you quiet."

The words came out impassively. Takeru could only stare in horrified confusion. He blinked several times, but the child's face remained the same: empty and sickly pale. He flinched when frigid fingers dusted against his shoulder.

Instantly, memories came rushing back like water in a river. His head felt as though it was on fire, producing image after image of the ghosts in Yamato's bedroom. Of his brother and his father screaming on the other side of the door. He remembered these fingers clamping over his mouth and slipping through his skin as though he was transparent.

_"Alright, Hope. I won't hurt them."_

A violent shudder rippled through his entire body and he wanted nothing more than for the boy to remove his hand.

Except he didn't. The sharp pain shooting up the expanse of his arm and into his collarbone suddenly dulled, but the ice that seemed to encase the entire upper half of his body seconds later wasn't any better. It left him shivering and he had to force his teeth not to chatter.

"Master will be here shortly," the child—he vaguely remembered that the boy had a name—informed him, but as he spoke, his lips twitched with something close to excitement. It was the closest display of emotion Takeru received before he slipped effortlessly into the embrace of the shadows.

Now he was alone. Or was he? His eyes darted around the room again, searching for something that would stick out. Something that hinted another presence. But only blackness surrounded him.

He shifted his weight slightly and heard something clatter behind him. Could feel the chains digging into his wrist once again. Could feel his heart pounding like waves on a coastline, echoing heavily in his ears. His ragged breathing was the only thing that accompanied this sound, which wasn't at all comforting.

Time passed, although he was uncertain of how much. At first, he tried struggling. Finally found the strength to push himself upward. But his restraints pulled him backward and he was shaking so badly that he couldn't stand for long. His knees stung as they collided with the hard floor and he grunted, still panting. He didn't know how to break away.

Once he was free of the chains, though, where would he go? There were no windows or doors, as far as he could see. Just darkness oozing inside the confines of four claustrophobic walls, stretched high, ready to close in on him. He felt incredibly small and so very, very cold.

An insane part of his brain wondered who "Master" was, and what was going to happen to him once he—she? it?—arrived. Would it be a ghost, or would it be a digimon? Was he even _in_ the digital world? If so, how could human souls be here? His limbs were stiff but he curled his knees close to his chest anyway, trying to ignore the all-too-familiar feeling of panic that swam in his chest. Squeezed his eyes shut.

_There's got to be some way out,_ he thought. Immediately, another voice in his head argued: _If I do what his master wants, Onii-san will still be safe. Everyone will be safe. No one will be hurt._

So he sat quietly, swallowing hard. Different scenarios played in his head, and with each one came the unsettling realization that whoever or whatever this entity was, they had control over _the dead._ How was that even possible? Dead people were supposed to _stay_ dead, right? His mind raced as he thought about how powerful—

Powerful. And Takeru was far from that. He was injured, he was weak, he was alone...

"Patamon," he whispered out of nowhere, feeling his eyes widen and his breath stop in his throat. Tears made the room blurry, and he had to blink hard to get them to go away. His chest ached as he wondered once again where his best friend could be. Was he safe, now that the boy had brought Takeru here? Or was he—?

No. _No._

Patamon had to be safe. He had to be ok. He had to hope so, at least. What if the little guy was in this place as well, wherever they were? He gritted his teeth, feeling suddenly angry. That boy was the one who had taken his partner away, and he was no longer here so Takeru could ask for answers. He tugged, hard, on his chains, fueled by rage and the desire to know Patamon's whereabouts.

_"Silly boy. We have no control over what happens to your precious partner. He's in Master's custody."_

_Hold on, buddy. I'm coming._

The horrible chill in his body faded suddenly, and he pulled harder. He wasn't strong enough, he knew. It was _concrete._ But he tried anyway, and the more he tugged, the warmer he became. It flooded through him, slipping through cracks of ice. Melting it. He pushed himself upward again.

There was a yellow light. He had to close his eyes to block out the brightness of it, and there was a loud _clank_ behind him. When he peeled them open again, it faded, and he stumbled forward slightly because the feeling left as quickly as it had come to him.

He was breathing heavily again and slightly dizzy. A glance down showed him that the chains had disintegrated, leaving behind no trace of their existence. Confusion bubbled in his mind, and his eyes fell upon his freed hands.

"What... what the heck?" he whispered out loud to himself.

"You've been awake for a matter of minutes, and you've already broken through my restraints. Though I should not be surprised."

The voice was familiar. Terrifyingly so. It chilled him right down to the bone, leaving him colder on the inside than he had been when the boy had touched him. Takeru's head snapped up but he wasn't sure what he was looking for. The room was once again bathed in shadows, and Takeru's breath left him without warning.

"It's no matter," the voice continued easily. "You think I would have let him bring you here if I did not prepare first?"

Some sort of cloth fell over his head. He stiffened and cried out in terror and surprise, but it was gone in moments. He tumbled backward, eyes wide and anxious, and when he fell his head smacked against the wall.

Except it wasn't stone this time. It was wood.

He looked around wildly, rubbing the back of his head and pushing himself up against the wall fearfully until he couldn't go any further. An awful, wretched smell cloaked the room like a soggy blanket. It was as though there was something rotting. There was a door this time, but it was on the wall opposite of him. He swallowed thickly, and the back of his mind wondered if he could make it to that door. But what was behind it?

The voice chuckled—a wicked, horrible sound that caused Takeru's fingers to curl into fists. His legs wanted to move; his head said _run,_ but panic had him pinned as though the emotion itself was a shadow wrapped around his feet, slithering up his legs. He felt them buckle under the strain of his own weight, and then there was a sharp, hard tug.

Another startled scream escaped him as he was pulled downward and laughter continued to echo around him. His hands stung as his fingernails broke through his skin, and when he looked down, his throat closed up.

There was a head. _Only_ a head. Sticking right out of the floor, beady, ghoulish eyes crinkled and dismal and tinted crimson. The face was smiling impishly up at him.

His legs jerked impulsively and he tried to pick himself up. But he was yanked down again, harder this time, and another glance down told him that it wasn't just fear that immobilized him.

There were actual fingers gripping his pants, knifelike and frosty and definitely _solid_. Just like the little boy's. They rose up from the floor as well, holding onto him so tightly that there was no chance of escape.

"Shhhh..." His voice was low and unwelcoming. "Master has told us so much about you, Hope. Aren't you going to at least let us say hello?"

Horrified tears pricked at his eyes and he twisted and turned, but his attempts were fruitless. The hands were heavy as stone.

"We won't bite," he continued, rising higher and higher out of the floor until his entire torso was visible. His arms stretched like rubber bands, becoming thinner and thinner but remaining powerful enough to hold him down. "Unless, of course, Master allows us to. Your soul _does_ look appetizing."

"G-get off me," he whispered in defiance and rage, body still jerking underneath his perilous gaze. He suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable, pinned like this, and the ghost looked ready to cut him open.

"No can do, Hope." His head tilted so far to the right that it looked ready to snap. His smile became wolfish. "It wouldn't be fun to have to chase you down again when Master spent so much time trying to capture you. Sakauchi did a good job getting under your skin, huh?"

Sakauchi. That was that boy's name. Sakauchi had brought him here. He and the little girl had stolen Patamon. Takeru glared, trying to appear unafraid. His quaking body failed to convey the same message. "Shut up."

"Oh, how cute." He leaned in slightly, red eyes glinting as though reflecting off of light. "Maybe I should bring reinforcements since you're _so_ scary."

_Reinforcements? What—?_

Oh, no.

Hushed, disembodied laughter seemed to bounce off of the walls, accompanied by several cracking noises. Takeru's eyes turned into saucers and he could feel his heart pounding so hard that it was painful. The ghost abruptly disappeared but he still could not move.

There was a small moment where all was quiet. Then, all of a sudden it wasn't just him that was shaking—the whole room was. Takeru's ragged breathing became a soft whisper in the night, drowned out by the rattling of shelves and door hinges. Rattling which soon turned into the deafening, hollow beat of a drum.

Turned into the thunderous beating of a heart.

Turned into the heavy rumble of footfalls upon the floor.

So much noise. Too much noise. He glanced around, terrified, but once again, there was only darkness; and it encompassed him entirely. He sat vulnerable on the floor, scared like a young child who had watched a horror movie, imagining each shadow to be a hand ready to grab him.

Except there really _were_ hands, which were attached to arms. Arms that were attached to bodies, stretched abnormally tall in a circle around him which refused to let in light. And they did grab him. Dug into his sweatshirt, skeletal and spiderlike, easily ripping through the fabric, piercing through his flesh as if it was paper. A fresh wave of agony swept through him. Something warm and wet rolled down his chin. Blood.

"Let me _go!_ "

He'd tried to shout it, but his voice was too soft; too weak. He was powerless. He thrashed and kicked and screamed but the hands would not release him. Squeezed so hard that he knew it would bruise. Slipped underneath his skin like tattoo ink in needles, brushing against bone. Caressing veins and capillaries. It was so cold that it burned, and he tried to cry out, but something covered his lips just as he sucked in a breath. So many hands, so many _hands,_ so many goddamn hands...

They picked.

Cobwebby fingers danced up; up; up; his collarbone, his chin, his cheek, his forehead. Traced his hairline.

They poked.

Small thumbs rubbed the skin just below his eyes as if to see how sensitive the area was.

They prodded.

Stiff, calloused knuckles brushed against the back of his neck. He was pulled—he could not tell if it was up or down, left or right. Takeru closed his eyes but they were pried back open, and he was forced to gaze back into black, empty sockets; into depthless chasms; into filmy, crimson-tinted, dead eyes that bored mercilessly into his own. He convulsed helplessly underneath all of those empty stares and cold, cold hands, unable to break free; unable to escape.

"Air _shot!"_

The apparitions immediately dispersed as a heavy puff of wind whisked through the room. Takeru coughed and sputtered. He drew in breath after breath, wiping desperately at his skin as though it would get rid of the crawling sensations spreading through every part of his body. More blasts of air swirled around him, each one followed by hollow, inhumane shrieks; and a loud sob climbed its way out of his throat when he saw a blur of orange.

Patamon.

The moment Patamon flew into his arms, relief exploded in his chest. His quaking fingers sifted through soft fur, squeezing as tightly as he could, cherishing his partner's warmth and trying to make it his own. The hot pressure of tears stung his eyes but he didn't care.

_Patamon._

"Takeru—oh, Takeru, I knew that you were here! I could feel you—" He pressed his cheek against Takeru's, paws resting on his chest. "You're so cold now..."

Takeru did not reply, at first. Just feeling his best friend's body heat sent waves of reassurance through him. He wasn't a ghost. _He wasn't a ghost._ He was here, unharmed, and he was real. He drank in that piece of knowledge for all it was worth.

_I'm so glad you're ok._

Takeru barely even noticed the soft glow emitting from his partner. It was the only light in this horrible, cold abyss of darkness, and it seeped into Takeru's skin like blood. Very slowly, the tremor in Takeru's limbs began to calm but he couldn't figure out how to get it to fade completely. So he sat holding his partner as though the digimon was his lifeline, afraid that if he let go, he would disappear again.

"I thought Sakauchi might have killed you," he whispered in a scared, exhausted voice.

He'd been afraid to say the words aloud, but it was true. The children were ruthless, and Patamon's presence was constant. He was seen as a nuisance. They could have done away with him at any time and Takeru wouldn't have known.

His partner's eyes were bright and concerned and very much alive. He snuggled into Takeru's chest. His tone was slightly fearful when he asked, "Who is Sakauchi?"

"That... that boy," he murmured tremulously, once again hugging Patamon with every ounce of strength in him. "He t-took you from right under me, and I—I was so worried that he hurt you—"

"He didn't hurt me," Patamon assured softly. "I don't even remember seeing a boy. I just... woke up here, and I was all by myself." There was a pause as a shudder claimed his small body. "It was _awful,_ Takeru. At first, I couldn't feel you at all. The darkness here... it's so slimy and cold. It was draining my power. I thought _you_ were dead. But then... then I felt something warm, and I felt so much energy. I knew it had to be you, Takeru, I just knew it." He paused and looked Takeru in the eye. "How did you even get here?"

"That doesn't matter," he replied quietly. Shakily. "We're getting out of here now."

_Wherever "here" is._

He finally lifted his head and looked around. Patamon was still glowing—a mellow, comfortable gold light—and Takeru realized almost immediately that a similar glow emitted from something just below his collarbone.

Patamon gasped. "Takeru, that's your crest!"

His eyes widened. Hesitant fingers reached for the chain and tag, and when he touched it, he could feel it throbbing, almost like a heartbeat. _Maybe that's what broke the chains._ "H-how...?"

"Maybe that was what I felt. Your crest came back to you."

"But _why?_ "

Slowly, Patamon extended a paw to touch the tag as well in fascination. "I don't know. But it's warm."

After a moment's pause, Takeru pushed himself to his feet and took his partner with him. He could barely hear the ghostly voices at all—it was like they were underwater. The floor creaked ominously as he took a step forward, and a little bit of confidence splintered through him as the warmth encasing him and his digimon did not waver. Stepped forward again. They were safe. For now.

"What is this place, Pata?"

"I..." Patamon paused, thinking. "It feels sort of like the digital world, but... it's too dark." He sniffed the air. "I keep catching a familiar scent, but it's mixed with a bunch of other nasty smells and it keeps changing. I can't tell what it is."

That was beyond unsettling. He swallowed nervously as they made it to the door: the only exit to the room. A quivering hand rested on the doorknob, hesitant to open it because who knew what was on the other side? Patamon had chased off those ghouls once, but if they came a second time... Takeru shivered.

Patamon tensed in his arms, prepared, and Takeru steeled himself as well. Twisted the knob. It creaked eerily just like the floor beneath them had as he pushed it open, and when he peeked his head through, he could feel his stomach clench in horror.

Cloudy eyes stared back at him.

"Hi again."

His first instinct was to slam the door shut. He stumbled backward a few feet, still holding his partner in a death grip. A sob left him immediately. "Patamon, they're _everywhere."_

"Let me digivolve," his partner replied with determination. Takeru nodded instantly and reached down to grab his D3, terrified and desperate.

Except it wasn't there.

His eyes popped wide as he checked his belt again. His pockets. His heart thundered in his chest as he looked back at Patamon with an anxious, tearful expression. "I don't have my digivice."

Patamon's face became worried. "Did you drop it?"

"I—I don't know. I—" He swallowed back the lump in his throat, thinking this couldn't get any worse. His eyes fell upon his crest, which pulsed rapidly: an echo of his erratic heartbeat. "I don't even remember the last time I had it."

"But your crest is reacting to you and me," the orange digimon said. "Your crest and your digivice are in sync, remember? It has to be somewhere nearby."

A terrifyingly familiar bark of laughter sounded through the thin door. Takeru stiffened, hoping desperately that he was imagining things. The line between reality and illusion disappeared a long time ago, though, and he recognized those white eyes almost as quickly as he recognized Sakauchi's.

"It took you _that_ fucking long to notice? Master has it. He's had it since Sakauchi came back with your pathetic excuse for a partner. Jeez, Takeru, you're not as clever as Master makes you out to be."

The door burst open as soon as Miyuki finished her sentence. She remained motionless in the doorway, but movement was not necessary. Takeru was already frozen stiff, locked in place by her words and memories of weeks passed:

_"Hey, now. He's ok. Just sleeping."_

_"What's the matter? Never been this close to a girl before?"_

_"You wanna know how I got these?"_

_"It'd be so easy for me to do to you what I wish I could have done to him."_

_"She didn't say I couldn't kill anyone else..."_

_"It worked for Miyuki, Takeru."_

Panic threaded itself through his veins as he thought about what her confession meant. Patamon... Patamon couldn't digivolve. He had no digivice now—something far more sinister and malevolent than any of these demons possessed the one thing that gave them a chance. The claws of despair sank into his chest.

"...have to run, Takeru! Now!"

Run _where?_ Patamon's tiny, warm paws were pulling desperately at Takeru's fingers, trying to coax him to move. He did, blinking dazedly as the feeling of hopelessness faded slightly, and Patamon shot a puff of air in Miyuki's direction without hesitation. Out of surprise, her entire body flickered, but it solidified a few moments later. It was long enough for Takeru and Patamon to get passed her.

"This way," his partner commanded, flying seemingly as fast as he could. The keeper of Hope had no option but to obey, throwing his legs out blindly and propelling himself forward.

They traversed the second room with ease, but the third one had more than one door and it caused both of them to pause for just a heartbeat. Patamon looked nervous as he guided Takeru around a corner, and then another, and another. But there was no escape.

Human-like shapes spawned from every hallway, every doorway, every corner, every shadow. They slipped through ceilings and floors, chortling and giggling as though it was a game and whoever caught them first would get a prize.

"We... we can't get out of here," Takeru gasped out. "I-it's no use, P-Pata..."

"Just don't stop moving," Patamon panted. "Don't let them touch you."

It was easier said than done. Patamon was small and could easily maneuver out of their grasp; Takeru was a much bigger target. And there were so many twists and turns. It was a maze that seemed endless, and the more they ran, the more frightened Takeru became. He was exhausted and he wasn't sure how long his legs would carry him. The world spun and tilted around him like some sort of carousel, but the only sounds that accompanied this horrible ride were the hollow, sadistic laughter of the ghosts; their erratic breathing; and Takeru's snare drum of a heartbeat.

After descending a staircase, Patamon released a laugh of desperation and relief. "Look! Takeru! I see the outside!"

"Where— _oof!"_

Takeru was so distracted by the hope in his partner's voice that he hadn't noticed his foot was caught over something and he plummetted toward the floor, which cracked under the force of impact. Patamon noticed this too late, had already shot through the door which promised safety. By the time he turned around, Takeru could feel slimy, frigid fingers snaking up his legs.

"TAKERU!"

Takeru's eyes widened slightly when his partner attempted to fly back in. But once his little body made it through the doorway, he was sent several feet backward.

Terror shot through his entire being and he kicked the tendril-like hands away. "P-Patamon!"

"I can't get back in," Patamon cried out with a sob.

He hurled himself at the door again, but it was like an invisible force was keeping him out. No matter how many times he rammed his body into the barrier, he was pushed backward.

"It's no use. Master has him trapped," Miyuki said almost gleefully from somewhere behind him. Takeru's breath stopped in his throat when he saw her rising out of the floor, stringy black hair acting as a curtain over her face. Her skin was a greyish hue, and even in the darkness, he could see the bruises and marks that littered her body. Around her, others appeared, standing mechanically as if pulled up by strings.

They cackled.

They screamed.

They groaned.

"You're stuck here, don't you see? The moment you entered this house, escape became impossible. There's no way out."

She twirled around and around in the darkness, her arms spread out happily and a crooked smile on her lips—a pitiful caricature of innocence and purity. Her laughter was maniacal. Takeru felt more hands on him... hands on him...

The coldness was returning rapidly, starting somewhere in his toes and climbing its way up his legs. Every ounce of warmth fled like a rabbit from its predator, and he suddenly felt drained. Felt as though he was being shoved into a tub of freezing water.

"You have no chance," she continued excitedly in a loud voice. "Your friend can't evolve anyway, so he's pretty useless if you ask me." Knelt down so they were eye level. "Besides, you look ready to give up anyway, don't you, Takeru? You were ready to give up a long time ago."

He could barely move. Was once again rendered motionless by her voice and cold, cold fingers... so cold... and so much darkness. He was suffocating in it. Shadows surrounded him just like before, towering over him like crooked tree limbs—there were so many of them that he had trouble seeing Patamon.

There really was no way out. He was trapped.

"Sh-she's right, Patamon," Takeru murmured weakly, shivering violently and unable to ward off the despair that settled underneath his skin. "There's s-so many of them—just run—"

"Don't think like that," Patamon snapped instantly, his eyes huge and watery. He fluttered frantically in the doorway, trying to get Takeru's attention, but he couldn't focus on his partner. "Takeru, snap out of it! You're fading again, and I don't have—"

A deep chuckle cut him off.

It stemmed from every direction; seemed to shake the entire room. Everything fell quiet, and Takeru suddenly felt himself being lifted up from the ground. Inky dark threads scattered haphazardly below him. Building. Building. He heard Patamon's sharp intake of breath and then another plea, but it was like background music; he was too distracted by what the black mass was becoming to focus on his partner's voice.

"It hurts, doesn't it, little boy Hope?"

That voice. Takeru felt his blood run cold and he wanted to vomit. Raw fear pulsed through his entire being. His body continued to tremble viciously.

Slowly, _slowly,_ he glanced upward to see the owner of the voice, his eyes widening as far as they could go.

"No," he whispered in horror, shaking his head as terrified tears gathered in his eyes. "No, no, no, no, no—"

Yellow and red eyes crinkled with a menacing smile. "Surprised?"

It couldn't be. Takeru continued to shake his head back and forth, wanting to back away but he was held in place. "I... I watched you _die_."

A gloved hand reached for Takeru's face. It caressed his chin gently, and the being in front of him tsked quietly. "Wrong. You watched your partner hurl me into oblivion. I never died."

Next to him, the air rippled. It wasn't long before a portal was born, and a familiar small boy slipped through it with ease. Miyuki's body faded and solidified right next to the child, grinning proudly. Their pale faces twisted with sadistic glee.

"What shall we do with him, Master Piemon?"

"I'm not sure yet," said the mega digimon, his smile widening. "I must say, I am impressed you were able to bring him here, my dear. I didn't expect this turn of events."

Empty eye sockets did not leave Takeru, who was frozen stiff under Piemon's probing gaze. "I am glad to have pleased you, Master."

Piemon hummed in delight. He hovered in front of Takeru as though he was a ghost as well. Achingly slowly, he circled around Takeru, studying him intently. He looked ready to dissect him. "I forget how much humans grow in the span of only a few years. You were so small the last time we met."

Takeru swallowed anxiously and tried his best to glare. It was watered down with fear. "Why are you here? Why are you doing all of this?"

"Isn't it obvious, boy?" He lessened the distance enough so that their noses were almost touching. Takeru wanted to gag. "I was sent to Hell, remember? I've finally found my way out, and I have to make sure it doesn't happen again. The only way to do that is to eliminate the one who put me there in the first place."

Somewhere in the background, he could hear Patamon's voice. But it was so soft—almost inaudible. His partner's form was like a dying candlelight, growing smaller and smaller until all that was left was a smoldering wick. Takeru's eyes were locked on Piemon. "Why now?" he continued angrily. "Why did you wait all this time?"

Piemon's gaze then weaved around the room, where the spirits around them danced and swayed elatedly in the darkness like stray leaves in the wind. "It took me a while to find some allies in whom I could place my trust."

At that, Sakauchi, Miyuki, and the rest of the apparitions dropped down to a low bow, in perfect sync. Their faces were tilted so Takeru could no longer see their expressions but that didn't make it any less unsettling.

Piemon looked at Takeru with a wicked grin plastered on his face. "They've done quite a number on you, haven't they, Hope?"

"Don't... don't call me that," Takeru muttered.

"Oh? Why not? That is your crest, is it not?"

Takeru flinched when Piemon's gloved fingers brushed against his collarbone, moving the fabric of his sweatshirt—his brother's sweatshirt—so he could see the crest. He was still shivering as they grabbed his tag, pulling so hard that the chain dug into the back of his neck.

"H-hey—!"

He ignored him and tugged harder. The chain snapped, and Piemon's eyes glistened with excitement as he studied the trinket. "That was easy. You really shouldn't keep such a valuable and powerful object in plain sight like that." He clenched his other fist, and when he uncurled it again, two devices rested in the palm of his hand: Takeru's D3 and d-terminal. "Like these, perhaps?"

A lump formed in the back of Takeru's throat and he swallowed again, trying to get it to fade. His eyes burned with tears of shock and terror. "Give those _back!_ "

"Or what?" Piemon taunted. "You think I'd just hand them over when it took me this long to get them in my possession?" Leaned in so his breath ghosted against Takeru's ear: "Besides, it's not like you can put up a fight. Your pathetic digimon is locked outside. My servants have done so much damage to your body. Aren't you dizzy, Hope? You're bleeding quite a lot." He tsked. "Or, perhaps, Sakauchi's spell is still dulling your pain. I can fix that."

It happened fast. Takeru must have blinked, because one moment, Piemon was looming over him like the shadow of a tree; and the next, he was gone. His surprised gasp quickly turned into a loud cry of pain as he felt hands on his shoulders.

His body was twisted roughly and he swore he heard something snap. Every part of him suddenly burned and his vision swam instantly. He screamed again, and the sound echoed around the room. Haunting. Deafening.

"P-please... don't..." he whispered, panting heavily and incredibly lightheaded.

Piemon's dauntless figure appeared in front of him again. "Don't, what? Hurt you?" He cackled. "You know how long I have waited for this moment? Do you know how much you have hurt _me?_ This is revenge, Hope. You are getting what you deserve."

His words were accompanied by another wave of pain. He was trembling violently again, and he felt his sweatshirt stick to his skin. From what? It was either sweat or blood; he couldn't be sure. His teeth chattered and he whimpered, lacking the energy to release another scream. The room faded and slowly came back.

He felt like he was walking in strobe lights—fading in and out of consciousness, unable to focus. Only saw bits and pieces of yellow and red, of green and white; the rest was just black. Darkness. So much darkness...

"Stop _..."_ he repeated dazedly.

"What's the matter? I thought you _liked_ seeing your own blood."

No.

_No._

Takeru released a weak, shuddering breath that was pathetically close to a sob. "Shut up."

Piemon was chortling. "Tell me, Hope, does it work? Does it make you feel better? Does it—"

"Shut _up!_ "

"How do you think your friends will react, knowing what you do to yourself when you are all alone? They already think you are crazy, don't they, for running off like that? For making such a scene?" Then, after a breath's pause: "Oh, I forgot. They will be dead soon, so it will not matter."

Takeru froze. His heart was hammering in his chest and his eyes popped. "N-no... h-he said that... he wouldn't hurt them..."

"He will not," Piemon said slowly, "but I will."

"You c-can't—!"

"Are you going to stop me?"

The blond fell quiet, unable to think of a reply. Piemon was so powerful and had Takeru right at the tips of his fingers. He couldn't stop him—not like this, bleeding, shaking, and in so much pain he could not move. No one could stop him. He had Takeru's digivice and crest. Patamon was unable to break in.

_Even after all of this... I still couldn't protect them._

His eyes burned with tears once again.

_We were all doomed... from the start._

In front of him, the light from his crest suddenly dissipated entirely. Despair sank its teeth into him so hard, so fast that it left the room spinning once again. He could feel himself falling forward, the only thing holding him up being the ice-cold hands of Peimon's ghost servants.

_There really is no hope._

"You're... you're really going to kill... all of them..." he murmured breathlessly.

An image flitted through his mind: his brother, stiff as coal on grey sand, blanketed in blood. Then came Hikari. Taichi. Sora... Jou...

Piemon's cackle made him lift his head, slowly. This time, Takeru's eyes were no longer defiant or angry—they were blank. Hollow. His gaze was locked on the beast in front of him but he didn't really see him.

"Are you scared?" the mega digimon taunted.

Scared. He'd been scared since day one. He'd been scared since that first nightmare; since that day in the forest; since the day his brother got hurt. And he'd done everything to numb that fear. To make it go away. But it always came back, taking shape in cold, cold hands; in empty eye sockets; in blood-stained clothes and sickly pale faces...

"I'm tired... of being scared," he said woodenly, dropping his head again. "I'm tired... so... so tired... I can't take it anymore."

Piemon laughed again quietly. "I can allay your fears... permanently. If that is what you desire."

Takeru blinked slowly but did not look up at him. "How?"

"It is a simple trade: I will not touch your friends or your precious partner," Piemon continued smoothly; "if you give me what I want."

"What do you want?"

Slowly, Piemon grinned. "Your soul."

"They'd all be safe," he repeated carefully, "if I gave you my soul?"

"Yes."

Takeru bit his lip. Closed his eyes. He tried to take in a deep breath but coughed mid-inhale, and pain squeezed his chest. "Then take it."

"Silly boy." Piemon's bark of laughter was not humorous. "If I could do that, I would have done it already. You have to pull it out yourself."

Another blink. "How do I do that?"

Piemon did not reply right away. Takeru barely moved when a cloth fell over his head, rough and threadbare. He held his breath for a few moments, and everything was dark for several more. Then the fabric was gone, and gradually, _gradually,_ he opened his eyes again.

He was staring at the night sky. The air was still humid and thick, but not as suffocating as before. He breathed in deeply, suddenly feeling weightless; there was no pain. The darkness was still present, however weaker.

But every ounce of relief in his body faded when he saw a huge body of water, shimmering menacingly under the silver light of the moon.

_That's... that's the lake we went to..._

_So this must be... the house..._

Piemon placed a hand on his back, pushing him forward roughly. Takeru stumbled but did not speak. Did not even look at him. His eyes were stuck on the lake.

"We are on the roof now," the mega digimon informed, his tone suddenly solemn.

"What for?"

Sakauchi was the one to react to his question. He yanked on Takeru's left arm hard, and all of a sudden, Takeru was peering over the edge.

It was a long way down, he noticed instantly. His whole body tingled as he thought about it and his eyes widened slightly. Was... was the house really this big? He didn't remember it being so tall when he first saw it in the forest. Didn't remember it being more than two stories. Now it seemed to stretch up infinitely.

Takeru started to look back at the ghost child, and when he did, Sakauchi simply commanded, "You have to jump."

"What good will that do?"

"It will separate your soul from your body," Sakauchi answered flatly. "Go on. Master is waiting," he added when Takeru did not budge.

Takeru swallowed. Pushed down his anxiety. Pushed down his doubts. It was... this was for his friends. This was for his family. This was for Patamon. It would keep everyone safe.

"Jump," Miyuki's voice whispered from somewhere next to him, but when he looked up, she wasn't there. But the word continued to echo around him like a CD that was scratched. It grew louder. Louder. Louder than his own heartbeat. Louder than his own thoughts.

_Jump._

_Jump._

_Jump._

It would be so easy.

_Jump._

_Jump._

_Jump._

It would only hurt for a little bit.

_Jump._

_Jump._

_JUMP._

In a few moments, it would all be ok. No more fear. No more pain. No more nightmares, no more ghosts, no more razors... he would finally get some peace.

_JUMP!_

_I'm sorry, Onii-san._

Takeru stepped forward.


	21. Don't Forget the Sun (Part One)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the comments and kudos!!!

"I felt you escape into empty space where my heart can't feel. Down in that darkness, you met all of the things you feared; and I knew, I knew there was nothing I could do." — Stomach It, Crywolf (ft. EDEN)

* * *

**Ch 21 || Don't Forget the Sun (Part One)**

Hikari was breathless when they landed.

She did not fall—someone caught her arm to steady her the moment her knees buckled, and for a moment, she thought it was her brother. She blinked dazedly, inhaling deeply and feeling Tailmon press up against her pant leg.

"Are you ok?"

That was not Taichi.

A glance to her left showed her that it was Jou who was holding her upright. He looked a little green himself but his grip was strong. She blinked again, incredibly confused. "I'm... I'm fine. Where is Onii-san?"

Jou looked around as well. His expression immediately became uneasy, and she could see why. A thick fog permeated the whole area—Hikari could hardly tell what was in front of her. She reached out experimentally, but her outstretched fingers only groped air. Jou's hand remained on the small of her back, almost protectively. She felt Tailmon rub against her leg again.

Out of instinct, she knelt down to pick up the kitten digimon. There were goosebumps crawling up her arms, and the material of Taichi's t-shirt was thin, offering little protection against the cold. Tailmon was warm. She called loudly, "Onii-san?"

"I don't see him," Yamato's voice replied somewhere to her right. "Wait—Jou? I thought you said you'd stay back with others."

"I did," Jou said quietly. Yamato came into view, and Hikari saw him holding tightly onto Mimi's wrist. Their partners stayed by their sides, with Gabumon holding Yamato's pant leg in a death grip and Palmon holding onto Mimi's other hand. "I... don't know what happened. I made sure to stay away from the portal—"

"Guys, I don't see Sora, either," Mimi interrupted worriedly, her expression frantic. "Or Piyomon."

Hikari's stomach twisted and she called Sora's name without hesitation and once again for Taichi. She wasn't the only one to do so. A heavy feeling settled in her chest when there was no response.

_What if...?_

Then, hesitantly: "Hikari? Is that you?"

She turned upon feeling fingers brush against her skin, releasing a quick breath of surprise. The fingers instantly withdrew, and behind her, Ken's voice said hastily, "I'm sorry, I just... I can't see much here."

"There's too much mist," Wormmon added.

Hikari was extremely confused and concerned. So Taichi and Sora were nowhere to be found, but Jou and Ken were here? Not that she knew where "here" was. Her fingers absently toyed with the trinket hanging around her neck, and it responded to her touch instantly. She looked down at Tailmon as she asked, "Where's the girl?"

"I don't know," the kitten digimon said, her eyes narrowing in suspicion.

There was a tense silence. Hikari felt a knot begin to form in her stomach, tight and uncomfortable, and her grip on her crest tightened. This was not good.

A shadow. Tailmon hissed. Hikari whirled around so fast that she almost knocked over those who were close to her, gasping in shock. A familiar, small child materialized in front of her seconds later, shimmering in and out of the fog like navigation lights on a ship in a horrendous storm.

"I am here," she said emotionlessly and looked around slowly. "It appears the portal would not let the ones you call 'Onii-san' and 'Sora' through."

"Why?" Yamato demanded heatedly. "What's going on?"

"I am not sure," she said, still looking around. "I can only pull so much energy through a distortion. Perhaps that is why it rejected your friends. But that does not explain why you two have come in their place."

"So... they're safe?" Hikari whispered hopefully.

"Yes. They are still on Earth."

She breathed a sigh of relief, but the feeling was short-lived as she glanced around again. The fog around them did not look like it would dissipate soon, and it was as unnerving as it was confusing. She could not ignore the horrible, foreboding feeling rising in her chest. "Where are we?"

"We are at the edge of Master's barrier," the child answered simply without looking at her. "I think it is best if we start moving now. Master's chambers are on the other side of the lake."

Hikari froze. Her knees trembled beneath her and a sudden chill swept through her. "L-lake?"

"You mean... the one Gennai brought us to?" Jou asked, uncertain.

"The one we went to when summer started," Ken said quietly. He was kneeling down to pick up Wormmon.

The child stared emptily at the fog as though she could see something they could not. She offered a slow, mute nod. "We are going to have to cross it to get to your friend."

"Then let's get going," Yamato said without hesitation. Even in the fog, Hikari could see the determination and worry in his eyes. "Takeru is— _oof!_ Wh-what the hell?"

He had started to walk as he spoke, and out of nowhere, there was a splash. He'd stumbled into the water. Were they already that close to the lake? Hikari took a careful step forward and shivered when the tip of her sock became wet. She'd forgotten that they had left in such a haste that they hadn't even bothered to put on shoes, but her lack of footwear was the least of her worries.

Her grip on Tailmon tightened considerably. "How are we going to get across?"

It was Gomamon who stepped forward. "Let me digivolve, Jou."

Jou fished his digivice out of his pocket without missing a beat, and it wasn't long before his partner was encased in a familiar glow that temporarily caused the fog around them to fade. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the small girl wince heavily, but the light was gone shortly and Ikkakumon stood in its place. His ears twitched as he knelt down so he was eye-level with Jou.

"Let's go."

Yamato was the first to climb on. Hikari followed suit with Jou's help, and Ken and Mimi were next. Hikari watched as Jou started to reach for the little girl's hand, paused, looked incredibly uneasy, and eventually withdrew. She vanished for several seconds and reappeared next to Mimi, who grew pale but remained silent. Ikkakumon didn't hesitate to begin his journey across the water.

Hikari shivered slightly, drawing her knees up to her chest and keeping her hand on her crest. The other stroked Tailmon's fur at a rhythmic pace, skillfully avoiding her partner's gaze. It was still cold—an oddly familiar, but disturbing kind of cold, much like the sensations she felt before she decided to take a shower earlier that evening—and she couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them. It was an unpleasant feeling.

Probably because this lake had seemed so inviting and warm when she'd come over a month ago, but now it was the opposite. Eerie. Dark. Ominous. Just like when Gennai had called them to the digital world. When she'd grabbed Takeru's shaking hand and ran... How could it have become so unsettling? Or was the relaxed ambiance all a façade? How could she not have noticed?

Her eyes examined the world around her slowly, but she wasn't sure what she was looking for. A shadow, maybe. It certainly felt as though something would reach out and pull her into the water, and looking over the edge at the murky water made her skin crawl. She was anxious and restless and wondered if anyone else felt the same. And she had no idea what was going to happen to them once they reached the other side...

_Where are you, Takeru?_

The question whirled through her mind over and over again and her throat closed up. Wherever her best friend was, she knew he was in trouble. The images from her vision flitted through her mind in distorted fragments, and she couldn't help but feel another wave of guilt wash over her. She didn't have time to be afraid. They were here to help Takeru, but Takeru was here because of them.

"You said you wouldn't do anything stupid," she muttered under her breath, her voice strangely thick and shaky. "You _promised_."

Someone whispered her name. She barely noticed that her fingers had ceased in their trek up Tailmon's spine. Sad honey-brown eyes stared at her suddenly, and her own eyes popped wide. She skidded backward without thinking and felt her chest tighten when she realized there was nowhere else to go but in the water.

A small cry of surprise and fear escaped her and hands caught her before she fell off. Steadied her. After a moment, she realized that it had been Mimi, and she didn't fight her friend when she wrapped her arms around her shoulders and pulled her in close.

"Are you ok?"

"Yeah," she whispered and nodded quietly, feeling her face grow hot when she realized her friends were staring. Her gaze landed on the being who had startled her so badly. "You... you changed again."

The girl's forlorn expression did not fade as all eyes shifted to her. "I am sorry I scared you. Your warmth is nice."

She'd said something similar about a half-hour ago. Hikari blinked, looking back at her crest. She didn't _feel_ warm, not in this place. Mimi stayed close and she could feel Tailmon curl into her lap protectively, and the girl's small figure blurred like static. Empty sockets became a soft brown again.

"What's your name?" Mimi asked quietly, keeping one hand over Hikari's.

The child blinked as if surprised. "Wh-what?"

For the second time in less than an hour, she sounded incredibly afraid. Mimi repeated her question, louder this time, and after several moments of silence, the girl murmured timidly, "My name is Saya."

"That's a pretty name," Palmon said gently.

A few feet away, there was a nervous laugh. Jou said almost inaudibly, "Leave it to Mimi to befriend a ghost in a creepy lake at a time like this."

Yamato scoffed. "We don't need to know her name, anyway."

"Yamato," Mimi scolded, giving him a harsh look.

"What?" His gaze landed on Saya, cold and unforgiving. His arms were crossed. "You tortured my brother. You made him suffer. You're the reason we're here in the first place. He's just a _kid._ You know what kids are supposed to do during the summer? They're supposed to relax—they're supposed to have fun. You took that opportunity away from him. I have no interest in becoming your friend."

Mimi opened her mouth, but there was nothing she could say that would ease Yamato's aggression. Hikari's own chest flared with anger as she realized Yamato was right. Takeru _was_ in danger—that was why they were here. And the thought of them being too late to save him made her heart throb.

But she glanced back at Saya, her anger quickly shifted into anxiety. Saya's face was grim.

"You are right," she whispered.

"Why _him,_ anyway?" Yamato rounded on her again, his whole body quaking with rage. "What does your 'Master' want with him? What did he—"

"Master wants his soul."

Hikari stiffened, and there was a collective gasp. A violent, cruel shudder rippled through her, and she released her crest without realizing it. Fear pulsed through her entire body alongside her heartbeat, drowning out all of her senses. She barely noticed that Mimi had loosened her grip on her shoulders. Could barely feel Ikkakumon's fur underneath her, or Tailmon's weight in her lap.

His soul. Whatever Saya was working for wanted his _soul._ Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew this already. Had figured it out hours ago. They had already tried to take hers. But hearing it out loud was much more terrifying.

All of his memories, his emotions, his fears... Everything that made Takeru, _Takeru._ Her best friend. Someone wanted to strip that of him.

_They're going to kill him._

She couldn't let that happen.

" _Why?_ " Yamato demanded, horrified.

"Master wants to rebuild what was taken from him," Saya answered quietly, looking down at her fingers. "He needs three things: the device which triggers his partner's evolution, his crest, and his soul."

"He won't just give those up," Yamato said angrily. "Takeru's a strong kid."

Saya's mournful eyes met Yamato's unwaveringly. "You forget how much time has passed. Now that Master has him in his clutches, it's only a matter of time before he breaks completely."

Hikari's fingers curled into fists almost subconsciously. Once again, her brain was overcome with images and voices, but this time, they weren't from her vision. They were from her dream:

_"I'm sorry, Hikari."_

His eyes were blank and glazed over as though he was under a spell. There were tears cascading down his cheeks in small, salty streams; and his whole body shook uncontrollably.

_"I'm going away now."_

Blood caked his arms in swampy dark blotches, rolling. Rolling. Down his wrists. Off his fingertips and into the black space which threatened to consume him entirely.

_"I'm so tired... I can't take it anymore."_

She was running, her heart pounding and pounding as she tried to reach him.

_"It's no use. He's gone, girl. He's mine. I have broken him. And there is nothing you can do to piece him back together."_

She was unsure of why she was still shaking. At first, she had blamed it on the icy whispers of wind that slithered around her like invisible snakes. Or maybe it was that voice, disturbingly familiar and sinister. Or Saya's words. She rubbed her arms, trying to feed warmth back into her skin, and was thankful when Tailmon rested a gloved paw on her hand. But she could not look at her partner.

Yamato was right: Takeru would not simply give his soul away. But Saya had a point as well—weeks had passed and she and her brother had continuously broken through his wall without even giving him a chance to pick up the pieces.

She remembered what had happened a month ago when Takeru had called to tell them Yamato was hurt and the events that followed. Even back then, he seemed so vulnerable and afraid. He shook and shook in her arms like a small child, lost and confused. She could still feel the despair and lingering sense of panic deep in her heart—a small remnant of the hopelessness that Takeru felt—when she thought about her vision, of his memories of summer.

He was a glass jar cracking closer and closer to shattered with each lie he'd told; with each avoided confrontation, with each false smile; and she had done nothing to prevent further damage.

Takeru was only fourteen—barely seven months younger than her, and so exhausted and afraid that he had resorted to the call of a blade. She hated herself for not noticing. She'd thought it was strange for him to wear long sleeves in the summer and she never bothered to push it. If she did, though, would it have changed things? Would he still try to keep things from her, from his brother, from his team? He was only fourteen years old, and he was ready to give up everything to save them. No way would she let him go through with that.

"You are crying," Saya said suddenly, and it took Hikari several moments to realize that she had been whom Saya was talking to.

Her hands remained still underneath Tailmon's paws, and she jumped in surprise when a thumb brushed away stray tears. Mimi had an arm around her shoulders again, and multiple pairs of eyes were looking at her with concern.

"You weren't the only ones who hurt him," she whispered, her voice strangely hollow and hoarse. One of her hands slid out of Tailmon's grip and found her crest. "There were more."

Saya nodded, looking away in shame. She took a step back and once more became the ghost who had haunted Takeru for weeks on end. "Master has other servants to whom he has promised rewards for doing his bidding."

"Rewards?" Mimi echoed in disbelief. "For _hurting_ Takeru?"

Yamato glared venomously. "Who the hell is your Master?"

Hesitance. Saya said, "The moment I reveal his name, we will lose the element of surprise. He will know that we are here."

A cry of frustration escaped Yamato's lips and he turned to Jou with a murderous glint in his eyes. "Ikkakumon, is there any way you can swim faster?"

"I'm trying," the water beast said with a concerned and remorseful undertone. Jou petted his head almost comfortingly. "This lake... it's dark and it's draining my energy."

"I feel it, too," Ken murmured, and it was then that Hikari noticed how pale and shaky he looked. Wormmon was rubbing his head against the former Kaiser's arm as though he was trying to help keep him warm. "It's... it's cold—it's almost as if we're stuck in the middle of winter, rather than summer."

Hikari could feel Mimi shudder intensely. "It's like being held in a freezer or something."

"Like the Dark Ocean."

Hikari wasn't sure why she said it. The words just came out—rolled off of her tongue in a voice that lacked emotion entirely. She stared blankly at the fog surrounding them and was unaware of the looks of confusion and worry which she received in response.

"That was my first thought, too," Ken muttered, now clinging tightly to his digimon partner. "But it's... there's something different about it, I just can't think of what it is."

"Master did that on purpose to further protect his identity," Saya informed them quietly. "He wanted to throw Hope off guard. He was under the same impression, although I am not sure what caused him to figure out the difference."

"Takeru thought... the Dark Ocean was after him?" Hikari asked quietly. _Why... why didn't he come to me when he first realized...?_

She already knew the answer to that question but that did not make it hurt any less. She swallowed back another wave of guilt, which was accompanied by tears; and she had to blink hard several times to dispel both sensations.

"You're so stupid," she muttered without realizing it, and this time, when she spoke, her voice bled pain and aggression. She couldn't help it—he was going through all of this to protect her. To protect _them._ But he didn't even give them a choice to stand up and fight. "Stupid, _stupid_ Takeru. We're supposed to be a team. We're supposed to be his friends. We're supposed to help each other out. Even if they came after us, we would have fought no matter the risks. He didn't have to do this all by himself."

Silence, as thick and foreboding as the mist around them, followed her words. She could hear Yamato seething quietly. Jou was biting his lip, eyes trained on Ikkakumon's fur. Mimi was rubbing Hikari's arm sympathetically but her gaze was glassy and unfocused. Ken seemed lost in thought as well, absent-mindedly stroking the skin on Wormmon's back.

"We are almost there." Saya's voice had become solemn again. "I do not know what is to happen once Master senses your presence, but be prepared. He..." She paused. "As soon as he sees me with you, he will most likely send me away. You will be on your own."

_"Send me away"?_

Hikari looked at her with wide, fearful eyes. "You mean...?"

Her expression was grim. "He will trap my soul in the same house that he threatens to trap Hope's."

Yamato sputtered. " _House?_ " A slow nod. Yamato continued, "The one he told me about? _That's_ where he is?"

"It is Master's lair," she replied, her gaze lost somewhere in the fog once again. "There is a portal inside one of the rooms."

"To _where?_ " Jou asked fearfully.

"Hell."

Once again, everyone fell quiet. Hikari could barely breathe. There was a wordless, frantic conversation between eyes and facial expressions; and all Chosen present continued to sit in silence until Ikkakumon said, "The water is getting shallow."

Jou hummed in acknowledgment but his gaze was cloudy and unfocused as if he was lost in thought. Hikari had to pull at Ikkakumon's fur lightly to keep her place as he pushed himself out of the water. Mimi released her gently and together, they slid off of the water beast and onto the grass. Ken and Yamato did the same, and they looked around slowly in anticipation.

A weak, shuddering sob caught Hikari's attention immediately. Her head snapped up and she felt her heart constrict as though there were fingers wrapped around it. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah," Tailmon said quietly, sniffing the air. Her eyes widened and she looked up at Hikari. "That's Patamon's scent."

Instinct drove her forward. But she made it about three feet away before a hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back. Ken said, "Hikari, wait!"

"The fog is still pretty thick," Gabumon told her, one of his warm paws coming to rest on the back of her calf. "We need to stay together."

A flash of light followed his words, signaling that Ikkakumon had changed back into Gomamon. She glanced back, taking in the digimon's tired, wary expression; and she frowned when Jou shrugged him onto his shoulders. He looked exhausted all of a sudden.

"Are you alright?" Jou asked quietly.

Gomamon nodded. "I'll be fine. I just need to rest a bit."

Yamato seemed to have the same idea as Hikari because as soon as the seal digimon was situated and comfortable, his eyes found Tailmon and his own partner. "Where's the scent coming from?"

Tailmon leapt out of Hikari's arms and her tail twitched the way it usually did when she was confused or irritated, and Hikari's eyes popped wide when she saw her tail ring glisten as though it had been caught in a sliver of light. The kitten digimon nodded her head to the right. "This way."

"Hey," Mimi started before Hikari could move again. "Grab my hand, so we don't get separated. You, too, Ken."

"...alright," she murmured, grasping her outstretched hand. She watched as Wormmon climbed onto Ken's shoulder so he could do the same. "Yamato?"

"Ok," he said stiffly. Very slowly, his hand slipped into hers, and she gave it a squeeze when she realized how clammy and tense he was. "Guess this means you get to hold mine, right, Jou?"

Jou chuckled, but the worried, fearful glint in his eyes did not fade. "Guess so."

Saya stayed by Tailmon's side, and the catlike digimon eyed her warily for several moments. She only relaxed when Gabumon and Palmon joined her, and Hikari kept her gaze trained on her partner's glowing tail ring. Everyone took a collective step forward. Two steps. Three steps.

As they ventured further and further into the fog, she couldn't ignore the looming sense of anxiety that wished to swallow her whole. She squeezed Mimi's hand out of instinct. Felt her heartbeat start to quicken: too hard, too fast.

Faster.

They were going to save Takeru and Patamon.

Faster.

They were going to save Takeru and Patamon.

Faster.

They were going to _save_ Takeru and Patamon, no matter the cost.

"It's just beyond these trees," Saya said, her voice too loud, and too soft at the same time.

Another whimper. It, too, seemed so close, and yet so far away. Hikari pursed her lips and swallowed hard. "There's that sound again."

"I heard him, too," Gomamon whispered.

"Me, too," Wormmon said.

Then, without warning: "...Takeru! NO!"

Yamato ripped out of Hikari's grasp so quickly and violently that she stumbled. His name fell off of her lips but it was in vain; he was too distracted and running too fast for her voice to reach him. So she did the only thing she could think of:

She ran after him.

The harsh, ragged breathing and crunch of heavy footsteps that sounded behind her told her that she was being followed by the rest of her friends, and she pushed herself to quicken her pace. She was losing sight of him. "Yamato! YAMATO, WAIT!"

Yamato called, "No! I'm not going to wait any fucking longer—Takeru's _here_ and he's in danger, and I'm going to find him even if it kills me!"

"You won't do much good all by yourself," Gabumon shouted, and it wasn't long before he was enveloped in a cocoon of warm light. Hikari closed her eyes to block out the intense cerulean glow, and it only felt like a brief second, but when she opened them again, she felt her heart start to climb up her throat.

"Wh-what...?"

The fog around them had lifted. Her feet slowed to stop without her consent, and she stared openly, heaving in shallow and unsatisfying gulps of air, at the sight resting before her.

Indeed, there was a house, and it was huge. It stretched higher than the trees, which circled it almost protectively, quivering under the cold wind's touch. The entire building was enclosed in a transparent, glasslike dome, almost like a snowglobe. But the scene frozen inside was far from comforting: there were thick black ribbons of darkness coiled tightly around its walls and windows like vines, pulsing as though they were alive. Her stomach rolled, foretelling a spell of nausea.

She'd barely noticed everyone else had stopped as well. They all froze in their tracks behind and beside her, and she could see Garurumon and Yamato stuck in place with shock as well barely fifteen feet in front of her.

"Oh my god," Mimi whispered in absolute horror, bringing a shaking hand up to her lips as if she was going to be sick as well.

"It's... the air is so heavy here," Jou panted, almost green in the face. "I... I can barely... get a breath in..."

"Takeru is... inside there?" Ken asked quietly, sickly pale, eyes wide and webbed and afraid.

Wormmon started to climb up the expanse of Ken's leg and instructed, "Don't move, Ken-chan."

Tailmon backpedaled slowly so she was right next to Hikari, and her eyes searched the house's exterior suspiciously. She sniffed the air and gave a grim nod. "That's him."

"And Patamon," Garurumon added. "It's faint, but... I can smell them both. And—" The wolflike digimon stopped, nudging Yamato enough to coax him to take several steps back. He turned his head so he was facing Hikari. "This is too familiar. It's dangerous. Keep your distance."

"But he's in there—!" Yamato started.

"And if you go in there, you'll probably end up dead, so don't move a muscle, do you hear me?"

The solemn, apprehensive tone in Garurumon's voice sent a surge of dread through Hikari's body and she found herself shivering violently once again. She turned toward Saya, whose eyes were brown again, defining anxiety and terror. Her breath caught in her throat and she asked tremulously, "...is it always like this?"

"No," she whimpered, shaking her head frantically. "The final step in Master's plan... it has begun."

"What does that mean?" Hikari asked, unable to keep the fear out of her voice. A menacing dark red tint to the barrier surrounded the house and she traced it with her gaze. The black vines were still pulsing, and with each breath Hikari drew in, she could hear it growing louder.

They clenched and unclenched, shifting around slowly. Shifting. Shifting. Shuddering. The ground beneath her seemed to quake, and she wasn't sure if it was a figment of her imagination.

Tailmon stood on her hind legs, pushing Hikari back again with one paw. A low growl climbed up her throat, and her eyes were narrow. "How do we stop it?"

"We cannot," Saya said.

Hikari saw Yamato open his mouth as if to speak, but before anyone could utter a word, Hikari heard another scream. The sound resonated across the small field and ricocheted through the trees. Seconds later, a flash of orange shot through the air.

" _Takeru!_ "

Patamon's little body had slammed so hard into the tree behind her that it took him several tries to figure out how to stand again. With four strokes of his wings, he was in the air again and seconds later, he was rushing off toward the house.

"Patamon, stop! Get away from there," Tailmon cried out, starting toward the little guy, but he had already been tossed backward again into the trees.

Somehow Hikari forced her limbs to move. She knelt down and wrapped her arms around Patamon so tightly that he had no escape, and she pressed him to her chest, instantly aware of how cold he was. "Patamon, you're hurting yourself."

Yamato had reached her now, kneeling beside her with Garurumon by his side. "What happened, Patamon? Where is Takeru?"

"He has Takeru," the child-level digimon said frantically with tears in his eyes. He fought against Hikari's hold but she refused to release him. "Let me go! Let me _go!_ He's almost gone, Hikari, I have to do something!"

Hikari felt her insides twist again. "Almost... gone...?"

Patamon was sobbing. Tears were rolling off his cheeks and into the grass, and it was then that Hikari realized the massive barrier encasing the house was slowly killing the plants surrounding it. Everything she remembered being a luscious green weeks ago was now rapidly turning yellow. Brown. Falling. Falling. Dying.

"His hope," Patamon wept. He was pale as a digimon could be and looked like he wouldn't be able to stand if she let him go, but still continued to struggle. "Piemon is stealing his hope! I can't... I c-can't feel him anymore... anymore... Takeru...! TAKERU!"

The air around her stilled. Hikari felt every ounce of air leave her lungs the moment Patamon uttered Piemon's name. Her heart was hammering away at her ribcage, thumping and thumping and thumping; and the dread that had been building and building in her stomach finally exploded, sending an unfamiliar feeling of numbness through the rest of her body.

She retraced with her eyes the house in front of her, and the more she stared at it, the more paralyzed she became. Her fingers remained frozen around Patamon's tiny form and the warmth of his fur was quickly fading.

Piemon...

_Piemon._

She didn't want to believe it. She couldn't. HolyAngemon had taken care of him years ago. He was gone. He had to be gone. He was... he was...

"Oh, no," Yamato breathed out all of a sudden, sounding petrified. "No, Takeru, no, no, no, no, _please_ , don't—"

Hikari looked up woodenly and she barely had time to blink before Yamato was on his feet. It didn't take her long to follow his panicked gaze.

He was small, almost like a speck, but Hikari knew who it was instantly: her best friend. _Her best friend_ , standing at the top of the barrier, looking over the edge.

Taking one step forward.

It happened extremely fast. Screams echoed around her, including her own, and then there was a tremendous, deafening _whoosh_. A bright flash of blue blinded her, and then green, and then pink, and—

_"WEREGARURUMON, CATCH HIM!"_

Everything went white and every drop of sound seemed to disappear completely. Hikari struggled to stay standing and wondered when she had even pushed herself up in the first place. She felt weak and disoriented. And then, when all of the flashes faded and the dots in her vision slowly disappeared, she immediately wished to return to the chasm of colorless light.

Takeru was in Yamato's arms, eyes closed, and he was covered in blood.

There was a thin, long cut stretching from just below his left temple to his jawline. His cheeks were splattered with spots of dark red. His sweatshirt was tattered and frayed as though it had been snagged on something sharp multiple times, and there were several cuts which extended beneath the heavy article of clothing. Hikari was sickened when she glanced at the lower half of his body.

She wanted to run over to him. To see if he was breathing. To wrap her arms around him and pull him to her chest. But her legs were incapacitated with shock. She could not move.

Yamato's face was awash with tears. "Teek? Teek, hey, open your eyes, damn it. _Look at me._ " His shoulders shook as he pressed two fingers to his neck as if checking for his pulse. "Please, Takeru..."

Patamon crawled toward him, slowly and shakily, looking too weak to even cry. "Ta...Takeru...?" After a hiccup: "W-why won't he wake up...?"

Jou sat down slowly in front of Yamato, gently taking the child-level digimon into his arms. Gomamon rubbed his cheek against Patamon's in an act of comfort, and Tailmon did the same. Wormmon and Ken were slowly walking toward them but neither of them spoke.

Hikari felt her body tremble and she slid to the ground, her eyes locked on the bearer of Hope's grey and bloody face. Mimi whispered tearfully from somewhere beside her: "Is... is h-he...?"

"Not yet," a voice answered almost happily, "but he might as well be."

Piemon's body materialized in front of them without warning, and Yamato glared heatedly at him through his tears. But Hikari could still see the sliver of fear that hid behind that mask of hatred and rage. "If you think I'm just going to hand him over, you're in for a fucking surprise."

"Oh, how endearing. You think you can save your poor brother." Piemon knelt down in front of him as if he were a young child and grinned malevolently. "I have to say, I am disappointed in my dear servant. I did not expect to be interrupted like this. But it does not matter how feisty you get, little man. He and I made a deal. He belongs to _me_."

In one sweeping motion, Peimon wrapped his gloved hands around Takeru's still body and ripped him from Yamato's grasp. Yamato released a pained cry, powerless to stop him. Piemon had flicked WereGarurumon away like he was a piece of stray food on his clothes.

"Besides," Piemon continued as though this was a normal conversation, "once he wakes up, he will not be the boy you think he is. Not anymore, at least."

He heaved Takeru up effortlessly, with one arm resting under his knees and the other pressed against his back. Hikari had never seen her best friend look so lifeless. She must have blinked, because one second, Piemon was right in front of them, and the next, he was at least twenty feet away.

"What... what does that even _mean?_ " Yamato asked, looking at Saya with horrified eyes.

"That is not your brother anymore," Saya said after a pause, her tear-glossed gaze sweeping over the two siblings to Hikari. Sorrow was written across her face. "It is _mine._ "


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for all the comments & kudos!!!

"I know you lay in bed, contemplating your own death. Well, just look at what you've done. Don't you dare forget the sun, love." — Don't You Dare Forget the Sun, Get Scared

* * *

**Ch 22 || Don't Forget the Sun (Part Two)**

Hikari's feet were frozen in place, Saya's words replaying endlessly in her head. Her eyes remained fixed upon Takeru's still body dangling in Piemon's arms, and she was unable to look away. His eyes were still closed, and she could barely imagine who would be staring at her once they opened. She'd only encountered that Sakauchi boy once.

"You're lying," Yamato accused, pinning Saya with anxious, furious eyes. "Please tell me you're lying."

She shook her head sadly. "It is the truth. I am sorry."

"But _how?_ " Mimi asked quietly. "We... we made it in time, didn't we?"

"His will has been completely broken," Saya said. "That means Master was able to sever the link between his body and soul. Sakauchi must have slipped inside him the moment your friend stepped over the ledge."

_No. We can't be too late,_ Hikari thought to herself, fingers curling into fists. Tears pricked at her eyes as she continued to stare. _No. No, no... Takeru... you didn't..._

Piemon was grinning perilously and expelled a loud, maniacal string of laughter. "If you do not believe her, look at these."

Takeru's body slid slowly out of his grip, half falling to the forest floor as Piemon freed one of his hands to snap his fingers. Two trinkets flickered into existence and floated into the mega digimon's gloved fingers as though he had pulled them down with strings: Takeru's digivice and crest.

She felt the air leave her lungs when she saw the swampy shadows engulfing both of them. There was no golden glow that Hikari had grown accustomed to seeing every time Patamon evolved. There was no noise. Both lay lifeless in his hand, bathed in the same thick black threads which encased the house they'd just discovered.

"They're inactive," she heard Ken murmur in realization somewhere to her left. When she was finally able to move her gaze away from her best friend, she saw he was shaking just as badly as she was.

Before anyone could reply, Piemon was strolling leisurely toward them once again, shifting Takeru so he could hold him the collar of his sweatshirt. "I guess I should be thanking you for catching him, dear child of Friendship. Since his body was not crushed from the fall, it proves to be of more use to me. Originally, he was just supposed to die."

Tailmon pushed her back once again with one of her paws, and WereGarurumon was pushing himself up, growling viciously. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Palmon and Gomamon ushering her friends to take a step back as well. Patamon was struggling to even lift his head in Jou's arms, barely conscious; and Wormmon was pinning Piemon with a glare.

"You stay away from them," WereGarurumon spat. "And give Takeru back _now."_

"Oh, cute," Piemon mocked, and when the wolflike digimon charged at him, he sent him flying with a wave of his hand. Yamato called out to his partner, and Hikari's stomach squeezed as though she were suffering from a bad cramp. "How many times do I have to say it? You are not getting him back. He is mine."

Every part of her told her to run. But that would not retrieve Takeru from Piemon's grasp, and there was no way any of them could outrun a mega level digimon. They all skidded backward a few feet but there wasn't anywhere else to go. If a perfect-level digimon could not lay a finger on him, there was no way any of their partners could touch him, either. They were helpless, just as they had been six years ago when Piemon first showed his face.

"And even if you could get your hands on him," Piemon continued as he came to a stop barely five feet in front of them; "there is not much of him left. He has lost so much blood, you see, and humans are so frail. I doubt his body can endure any more damage. The only thing keeping him breathing is my servant's soul."

There was a pause as the words sank in. Piemon smirked, but it soon faded as his menacing gaze landed on Saya. She met his gaze without emotion. Piemon said, "You betrayed me."

"You corrupted my brother."

"Silly child," Piemon said, his words accompanied by a sharp bark of laughter. "He was already corrupted. That was why you two were in Hell with me, was it not? That was why you wished to work for me in the first place, all that time ago. You were shrouded in hatred and rage. Remember that?"

As he stepped forward, she backtracked, and Hikari stiffened when Saya's arm brushed against her own. Her crest exploded with light, filling her with a familiar, comforting warmth; and out of instinct, she pushed Saya behind her just like Tailmon had done to her. Saya had hurt Takeru, yes. She would not forgive her for that. But that didn't mean she would let Piemon lock her away. Nobody deserved a fate that cruel.

Piemon released a gasp of surprise, gazing at Hikari with mild interest. "You are _purifying_ her."

Hikari felt the ground beneath her disappear and barely had time to cry out before Piemon's fingers clenched around her neck.

Her name sounded repeatedly around her, from her friends and her partner, and she saw a blur of white fur. Another burst of pink light flared up around her, and there was a loud hiss of pain. Her feet collided with the ground again. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she was left sputtering and coughing.

Ken caught her as she went down, and it didn't take him long to coax her back to her feet. She rubbed her neck gingerly, and after a few blinks, she realized Piemon was further away again. With Takeru.

Her first instinct was to propel her feet forward. Ken pulled her backward again, and she felt another hand grasp her shoulder. Mimi said, "Don't! He'll just try to get to you again."

"Wait," Yamato said, his voice oddly choked, and it was then that she saw him holding a weak Gabumon in his arms. His face was still stained with tear tracks but his eyes were narrow. "Takeru... Takeru is waking up."

Hikari squinted. Piemon was flicking his wrist hard as if he had been burned, and he looked annoyed. Takeru's body twitched in the mega digimon's arm—something that was not unnoticed by Piemon—and very slowly, he allowed him to slip to the ground.

Yamato jerked as if he wanted to run toward him, but he did not stand. Hikari stilled anxiously, watching as her best friend's body stumbled. Again. Again. He fell onto the dead yellow grass, and it took him multiple tries to stand on his feet. When he was finally able to draw himself to his full height without wavering, Hikari's breath stopped in her throat.

He was smiling up at Piemon. _Smiling._ And it wasn't a Takeru smile: too wide, too menacing. She could still see the blood that marked his skin and clothes, his grey face lit up by the light of the moon. Pinpricks of fear slipped into her skin.

"Oh, my god," Ken whispered, his grip tightening on her arms as if without realizing it. "Do you see it?"

"See what?" Palmon choked out.

"The darkness around him," Ken answered. "There's so much. He's completely covered in it."

"No slither of light to be found," Tailmon said, her voice low. She was down on all fours again, her tail twitching repeatedly as her eyes narrowed. "She was right. That's not Takeru."

"But that's still his body," Jou said. "If we... if we attack, there's a chance we could hurt him."

A whimper. Hikari's head snapped around and she glanced at Patamon, who was still trembling violently in Jou's arms. The winged digimon's eyes were clouded and watery. Gomamon asked if he was alright but never received a response.

"He's getting colder by the minute," Jou told them softly, his expression ashen. He stroked Patamon's fur slowly and carefully as if his touch would warm him up, but Patamon did not react. Just continued to shiver.

"It is because of your friend. His soul has been ripped from him, and Piemon intends on shrouding it in the same darkness you see Sakauchi buried in," Saya explained. "Your partners are bound by soul, correct?"

She nodded alongside Mimi and Yamato, and she saw Tailmon's eyes blow wide. Saya continued, "He is losing his energy because his partner has lost the one thing that keeps your friend going."

"Hope," Yamato said flatly, his eyes locked on Takeru.

Without thinking she stepped toward Jou, bending so her ear was level with Patamon's body. She swore she'd seen his lips move. "What is it, Patamon?"

Everyone fell quiet, anxious and afraid. Hikari held her breath and tried to ignore the loud beating of her heart which rang in her ears. Then, almost inaudibly: "...almost... gone... he's holding it... holding it... in his hand..."

"Holding what?" she whispered, placing a hand on Patamon's head.

She withdrew instantly when she saw him wince. Patamon had never flinched underneath her touch before. Her eyes found Takeru—rather, _Sakauchi_ in Takeru's body—and she swallowed thickly. They were walking toward them again. There was still a wicked grin on Takeru's face.

Jou tensed as soon as he saw them, too; and Yamato shot upward, seething. "Well, we have to come up with a plan, don't we? There's no damn way I'm going to just stand there while that _thing_ is inside my brother."

"There is nothing we can do," Saya told him softly, and when all eyes fell on her, she looked that Piemon. "As he said before, the only thing keeping your brother alive is the fact that Sakauchi has possessed his body. If you drive him out, Hope will die."

"No," Yamato gasped out, his eyes wide. "There has to be a way to save him, damn it! There _has_ to be."

A heinous chuckle drove Hikari's attention away from Yamato and toward Piemon once again. But it wasn't the mega digimon who had produced the sound—it was the boy using Takeru's body.

She shivered involuntarily. It definitely wasn't a laugh she was used to hearing: far too dark and malicious. No way would Takeru _ever_ laugh like that.

"You don't seem to understand."

It was Takeru, and yet it wasn't. Like someone had recorded the sound of his voice and tampered with it. Made it much more sinister. Distorted. Her eyes popped when saw he was looking at her and her only: his eyes all pupil, with absolutely no hint of blue. Just black.

"He made a deal, you see," he continued, still laughing that horrible, wicked laugh. "He promised Master his soul if we did not touch you. Isn't that right, Master?"

"Right," Piemon echoed, his eyes scanning all of them as a grin resurfaced on his face. "And I was going to honor that deal, but you seem to pose a threat. So we will destroy you anyway. And this time, I will not fail."

Hikari wanted to glare but it would be futile. She knew she could not stand up to a digimon this powerful, not with her best friend's life on the line. Not when they were all vulnerable like this. But she refused to believe that Takeru could not be saved.

Before she could utter a word, however, something fell over her head. Her body became taut with pain and panic, arms dangling limply at her sides as her vision darkened. It was stuffy. She sucked in a breath through her nose but it was as if she had been thrust into a burning building—the fabric over her head was dusty and coarse and it was way too hot; the air she drew in was contaminated and left her coughing once again.

Then. Then it was gone, and she was standing alone in the woods. A thin layer of fog was starting to surface as fear crept through her body. "Tailmon? Jou?" She turned, swallowing hard. Where did everyone go? "Ya...Yamato?"

There was no response. Hikari whirled around again, chewing the inside of her lip. She searched and searched. But her eyes could only find endless rows of dead trees and a blanket of fog that vaguely reminded her of Vamdemon.

She swallowed and started walking, fingers brushing against the trees as she felt her way around. It had been much easier to navigate their way out with Saya to guide the way. Leaves were falling all around her, but the branches were still thick enough to block out the moonlight she'd come to rely on since they arrived. Her crest was still alight, although faintly. Darkness blanketed everything else.

"Tailmon?" she repeated, frightened. Her stomach lurched, and it wasn't just because she was alone. Where was Takeru now, and where were her friends? And if... if Piemon was here, did that mean the other Dark Masters had returned as well? Memories of their last attack resurfaced in her mind—ones she still could not fully recover since she'd fallen victim to a fever as soon as their group had split up.

There had been four Dark Masters. Three of which she knew exploded into tiny bits of data and could not be reborn because the Village of Beginnings had been corrupted and destroyed at that time. Piemon was hurled into HolyAngemon's gate. How had he found his way out? She didn't even know there _was_ a way out.

Her hands came up to rub her biceps as if to warm her arms. She called for Tailmon again. For Ken. For Mimi and Jou and Yamato. Even Saya's name fell from her lips. The only answer she received was her shaky breathing.

"...Hika...Hikari...?"

It came out as a whisper: soft and eerily gentle. An icy hand brushed against the nape of her neck seconds later. She gasped again, fingers instantly extending to slap it away. The hand curled around her wrist before she had the chance.

Except when she turned around to face the owner of the hand, she could only stare. There was no face to look at.

Just a decapitated body, doused in blood.

She shrieked and ripped away as soon as the shock wore off, stumbling until her back slammed into a tree. Her legs quivered beneath her but she forced herself to keep standing, her eyes huge with terror.

"Don't _touch_ me," she cried, her fingers instinctively curling around her crest when the headless figure's hands reached out to grab her once again. She pressed herself against the tree, one arm sliding around its girth. Pulled herself to the other side and sealing her eyes closed, hoping and hoping that once she opened them, it would be gone.

It wasn't. It had followed her around the tree and was barely inches away from Hikari's face. The thick, rusty smell made her gag, and she heard her name again somewhere close to her ear, prompting another scream from her lips. She stared wide-eyed and horrified at the body in front of her as frozen fingers encased her wrist again. "Let... let me go!"

Wait.

Hikari's breath caught in her throat as her eyes traveled further down, feeling nauseated as she realized to whom that blouse belonged: Takenouchi Sora.

"N-no..." she murmured, winded and afraid. The body... no, it couldn't be. Sora was back at Yamato's apartment, safe and sound. Sora was with her brother and teammates and Yamato's and Takeru's parents. She was not here. _She was not here._ This wasn't real.

But that was her shirt. Those were her capris. Those were her shoes. All stained dark crimson.

"Please, _please_ let this be an illusion," she whispered to herself as tears gathered in her eyes. "Saya said... she said they were safe..."

She sucked back a sob and yanked away once more, ducking underneath the figure's arm and propelling herself forward. Her crest illuminated the space around her now, so she could see further than just what was in front of her. She ran, clumsily and awkwardly dodging each tree, each branch, each log that stood in her path. She stumbled several times, leaves and dead grass crunching underneath the weight of her socked feet, ignoring the pain digging at her heels as she threw herself across the forest floor.

Sora had to be ok, she assured herself, not turning around to see if the body was following her. She _had_ to be ok. This was just Piemon's doing. She needed to get back to where her friends were. To where Takeru was.

She skidded to a halt when she saw two more figures step in front of her. These one were not bloody. Just unnaturally pale, eyes blank and glazed over, almost like a dead fish. She felt like she was going to throw up.

Miyako and Iori.

They were walking toward her, slowly and stiffly, as if being dragged forward by something Hikari could not see. She took a step back for each step they took, shaking her head violently. No. No, no, no. They hadn't even _arrived_ when she followed Saya into the portal.

"Tailmon," she called again, cupping her hands over her mouth. "TAILMON!"

A low murmur. Miyako was saying something. She snapped her head back toward her and stopped moving completely. "Wh-what?"

"...could you do this, Takeru? How could you let him get us?" the figure was whispering, her voice void entirely of emotion. "...Takeru, why? The screaming, Takeru. Didn't you hear us?"

Takeru. Was this what Takeru had seen? Was this something from one of his nightmares? She swallowed thickly, continuing to shake her head. "No, Takeru wouldn't... Takeru didn't... this wasn't him..."

There were more behind her. Behind Iori. She swore she saw a glimpse of Yamato's hair, but it was thinned out and lighter than usual. She took another step back. Daisuke was stumbling in her direction, his neck twisted at an angle that seemed inhuman. There was no light in his eyes.

Another step back.

Jou's body was sodden, his eyes bulging out of their sockets, face tinted blue as though he had been deprived of oxygen. She had to cover her nose to block out the sour, musky smell that emitted from him.

Another step.

There was a long, ragged tear in the front of Mimi's tank top, almost ripping it in half. Blood stained her skin and the rest of her clothes.

Another step.

Koushiro's body was charred from the waist down, lips parted as though to release a scream that was forever muted.

Another step.

Ken looked like he could barely walk. Behind him was her brother, staring at her without eyes.

Another step.

"Didn't you hear us?"

Another step.

"The screaming, Takeru."

Another step.

"Takeru, why?"

More blood. It sprung forth from eyes, ears, a mouth, a nose. Rolled down colorless, hollow cheeks in small crimson waterfalls. She was staring at herself now—a scarlet-painted version of herself. Except the lips that would have mirrored her own were chapped and grey and poised in an impish smile.

When she pushed herself backward once more, her wet sock scraped against something that felt like bark. She'd hit a tree. Her legs failed to catch her and she slid down to the grass, hands coming to cover her ears as if that would silence their voices. Those were not her friends. It wasn't real. It wasn't real. _It wasn't real..._

She squeezed her eyes shut but the images of her dead friends were burned into the back of her eyelids. Some sort of paralysis settled deep within her bones as soon as she hit the ground, just like before— it was almost like rigor mortis. She could not move. She could barely breathe.

"It's not real," she promised herself, over and over, wincing as a hand fell on her head. Gripped her shoulders. Her arms. Her fingers, trying to pull them away from her ears. Something warm and wet dripped on her cheek but she didn't dare open her eyes to find out what it was. Shrank farther and farther into herself, wishing she could escape.

"...kari..."

Hands were shaking her now. Hard. Hikari remained curled tightly in a ball, tree bark digging into the skin on her back through the thin material of her shirt. "It's not real... not real... not real..."

_"Hikari!"_

Warm fingers curled under her chin and forced her head upward. She instantly resisted, trying to push the fingers away. But she could not.

"Hey, Hikari, open your eyes and look at me, ok?" a voice was saying, careful and concerned. Familiar. "It's ok. You're right—it's not real. It's an illusion. I promise."

Slowly, hesitantly, Hikari peeped on eye open. At first, it was blurry. She blinked several times. Caught a glimpse of white fur. Of ebony hair. Of pink petals.

"Ken...?" she whispered, unsure, as her vision cleared somewhat. "Tailmon? Palmon? I-is that you?"

"Yes, it's me," Ken said vigilantly, hands slowly retracting from her shoulders.

"Are you alright?" Palmon asked quietly.

Tailmon shouted her name before she could respond, flinging herself into Hikari's lap. Hikari was quaking, and when she moved her hands away from her ears, she realized that all of the figures were gone. Her fingers instantly rose to her cheeks. They were damp, but it was not from blood. Tear tracks marked her face.

Hesitantly, she pulled Tailmon closer than ever before, eyes still locked with Ken's as she tried to slow her racing heart. Her voice wobbled as she asked, "Did... did you see them, too?"

A pause. Ken shivered and said, "Yes... I did."

"Everyone was dead," she blurted, swallowing a sob. "And—and they were blaming Takeru—"

"I know." A shaky, small breath. "But it was fake, remember? That digimon—Piemon?—must have done it." He shuddered again. "Who is he, anyway?"

Hikari sat motionless for a moment, incapable of gathering her scattered thoughts long enough to think of a reply. Then she drew in a cleansing breath, slowly unfolding her knees so Tailmon was more comfortable. "He was an old evil digimon we fought a while back—over six years ago. One of the Dark Masters. I... I don't know how or when he came back, but there isn't much time to find out. We have to find the others and get Takeru before—"

She stopped, unable to bring herself to say it. No, Piemon and Sakauchi would not kill Takeru. Takeru would not die. He would _not._

"Where do you think Mimi and the others are?" Palmon said, her eyes wet and worried. "Do you think they saw what you saw?"

Ken fell silent. He stood after a moment's pause, extending a hand to help Hikari to her feet. She accepted it reluctantly, allowing Tailmon to hop to the ground before she rose to her full height. Her knees still felt stiff and she stumbled once, using the tree behind her to regain her balance and holding tightly onto Ken's hand.

"Easy," he said vigilantly. "You... you were curled up like that for a while. It took us nearly five minutes to get you to respond."

She blinked, swallowing fearfully. How long had she been trapped in the forest? It was hard to see still, but the fog from earlier had once again dissipated. Tailmon pressed her body against her Hikari's calf as if to try to comfort her. She glanced back at Ken. "Where is Wormmon?"

A shadow fell over her friend's face. "I... I don't know. That's why we should look for them."

"I... Ok." She chewed the inside of her lip again. "Thanks, Ken."

"For?"

"For helping me snap out of it," she murmured, but the smile that painted her lips was not genuine. She didn't believe she could truly smile until they had Takeru back. Until all of this was over.

Ken returned the gesture, and it mirrored hers exactly: watered down with fear and concern. Then he turned, taking a step forward, and beckoned for her to do the same.

They walked, careful to stay close to each other. And they walked. And they walked. Ken said eventually, "He's been having nightmares like that."

"I... I know," she muttered, keeping her gaze on the trees in front of her.

"This morning," Ken started, taking a deep breath, "like, _early_ this morning, I woke up because I heard the door open. I found him throwing up in the bathroom. When I tried to talk to him, he started screaming..."

She looked at him then, listening intently as Ken ventured further into his story. Parts of her vision flooded through her mind as he continued to speak: of Takeru bolting upward, hyperventilating; of him sweating and screaming in his sleep; of the ghosts, the panic, the scars...

"...and I wish I hadn't made that promise," Ken finished softly, his hands now pulling at his hair and his eyes were wide. "Daisuke told me it was a bad idea, but he just—he was so scared, and I—"

"There was nothing we could have done," Tailmon said, and it was true. "Takeru was hiding from everyone. A confrontation is what got us here, remember? Those children took Patamon, and then they took him."

Hikari's fingers curled into fists. "And if we don't act fast, he'll be gone."

Slowly, Ken released his hair. He met her eyes briefly. Swallowed nervously. Nodded. "Y-yeah. Right."

"...over here! Guys, I found them! Hikari! KEN!"

All four of them jumped, and the two Chosen peered through the trees as Mimi's familiar voice called out to them. Hikari felt relief sweep through her and her heart stuttered in her chest as she saw a faint green light sift through the trees. Followed by blue. And a soft grey.

"Mimi," Palmon cried out, running toward her without hesitation.

Mimi wrapped her arms around her partner seconds later, and Yamato and Jou were a mere five feet behind her. Hikari immediately noticed two things: one, there was blood on Mimi's arm; and two, Jou was not wearing a shirt.

"Are you ok?" Hikari asked instantly, growing slightly pale.

"We should be asking _you_ that," Jou told her, his tone solemn. She caught the way he twitched and shivered under the cold breeze. "We've been searching for at least twenty minutes."

She blinked and looked at Ken, whose eyes were wide and shaky even as Wormmon began to climb up his legs with a sigh of relief. She was unsure of how long the two had been walking around aimlessly, or how long she had been under that spell. It had only felt like a few minutes. A frown marred her face, and when she glanced back at the rest of their friends, she realized that Mimi was actually wearing Jou's shirt. The fabric in her hand was her own, and it looked like it had been ripped. She gulped. "You didn't see anything weird, did you?"

All three of them fell silent, which confirmed Hikari's suspicions. Yamato said tensely, "It doesn't matter. We need to get out of this forest, and fast, before Piemon does something worse."

Mimi pushed herself up to her feet, one hand still resting on one of Palmon's arms. Her expression became uneasy. "We have no idea where Saya is, and she's the one who brought us to the house in the first place. How are we supposed to get out?"

Hikari risked another glance around, studying each of her friends individually. Yamato was now holding a very stiff Patamon, and her first instinct was to walk up to him and take the digimon into her own arms. She forced herself to remain still when she remembered the way Patamon had responded to her touch earlier. The blood on Mimi's arm was dry and crusty, but it seemed there was no wound. She noticed that the mellow grey light had come from Jou's crest.

Once again she had to swallow to get rid of the lump in her throat. "You... you got your crest back."

Jou looked confused at first, and then his gaze dipped downward and he pursed his lips into a thin line. "Y-yeah, it just. I don't know where it came from. It just appeared after..." Another shiver. "We should get walking."

"Where?" Ken asked. "Hikari and I have been walking for a while and we've gotten nowhere. It... this forest seems so huge."

Hikari felt a stutter of warmth just above her breasts. "Hey... wait a second."

They did. All eyes fell upon her, and she carefully removed her crest from around her neck. It was pulsing again, vibrant and comforting. Yamato prompted hastily, "What?"

"It keeps making that sound. It's like a heartbeat," she said. "It never... did that... in the past..."

Her voice died as she dangled it in front of her face like some sort of pendulum. Its glow was almost hypnotic, and she could only focus on its steady movements. Her arm moved on its own accord as she brought the trinket closer to her face. Closer. It just kept swinging even as her hand stilled mere inches from her nose.

Back and forth.

Back and forth.

Back and—

In the distance, she heard gasps of surprise and wonder. A cocoon of pink light engulfed all of them.

A strange, peaceful feeling flowed through her body like water, and her eyes slipped shut out of instinct. The ground her seemed to disappear entirely: there was nothing above or below her. No trees. No grass. No cold breeze. Just this beautiful, all-consuming light, threading itself around her limbs, her torso, her head. It was warm, she noticed immediately, and it was painless. She felt weightless.

And then it all went in reverse. The light faded abruptly and she felt herself falling. Falling. Falling. All of a sudden Hikari was on the grass, panting and sweating. Her eyes were still sealed shut and she could not figure out how to open them. Her chest was burning and her heart roared against her ribcage like a terrified animal trying to break free of its prison.

"Is... i-is everyone ok?" a voice asked somewhere to her left, raspy and exhausted.

A series of winded replies followed Jou's question, but Hikari could offer no such answer. She was too busy trying to catch her breath. When she was finally able to pry her eyes open, it took her several moments for the black spots in her vision to dissipate. Her stomach seemed to drop somewhere near her feet.

They were back at the house.

Each breath she drew in seemed harder than the last and she searched for her partner without hesitation. Croaked out Tailmon's name.

She sought comfort in the flash of ivory she saw dance somewhere in front of her and felt relief explode in her chest when Tailmon brushed up against one of her arms. The feeling did not last long when she heard a villainous laugh bullet through the air. It sounded way too close to her.

"So you've found your way out, have you? Interesting." A pause. Hikari barely even had time to jump in surprise before her gaze was captured murky black eyes. Takeru— _Sakauchi—_ was staring right at her with mild curiosity. "Master thought you would be stuck in there forever."

She wanted to scowl at the boy behind those eyes. She wanted to hate him for doing this to her best friend. But she could do nothing but sit trembling under that cold, hateful gaze. Even as Tailmon hissed and geared her claws up to attack. Even as Mimi and Jou shouted at him in defiance. Even as light erupted behind them, signaling the digivolution of her friends' partners.

Even as Yamato bolted across the field to push Sakauchi to the ground.

"What the hell have you done to him?" he shrieked, grabbing the collar of Takeru's sweatshirt and pulling him up. "Where is my _brother?!"_

"Why, _Nii-san_..." Sakauchi's—Takeru's—face split in two with a sick grin. "I am your brother. Don't you see it? The hair, the skin, the—"

Hikari felt ill when Yamato's grip tightened, his features twisted with rage. He looked ready to choke him. "You _are not_ Takeru! Takeru is nothing like you! Stop trying to pull tricks on us!"

"Nuh, uh, uh," Sakauchi teased, still smirking. "Remember, if you hurt this body, I'm not the one who suffers. Hope does. So I would release me if I were you. Master already said he cannot take any more damage. I think you would have got that through your stupid head by now."

Yamato's entire body deflated as soon as the words came out, eyes wide and full of despair. Hikari opened her mouth to speak but her voice was muted as Sakauchi's grin widened considerably, placing his hands against Yamato's chest and giving him a shove strong enough to send him to the forest floor.

Achingly slowly, Sakauchi drew Takeru's body up to his full height, one hand reaching up to fix his collar. "He was calling for you, you know. 'Onii-san! Onii-san!' he said. It didn't take much to shut him up... all we had to do was draw a little blood." His fingertip absentmindedly traced the cut caked with blood on Takeru's cheek. "You should have heard him _scream._ "

Everyone became tense. Yamato muttered, "What did you _do?_ "

Sakauchi then tossed his hands in the air almost gleefully. "Exactly what it looks like."

"No," Hikari whispered, feeling tears prick at her eyes. "No... We... We won't let you get him."

"We already have," Sakauchi replied, releasing a dark chuckle as he took a small step forward. Then another. Another. He was kneeling in front of Hikari again, his neck tilting to the side far enough that it made her stomach churn. His eyes slid to where their partners stood behind them, hesitant to attack; and then they landed on Tailmon, who was glowering at him. "In fact, Master is inside his chamber, getting ready to dispose of Hope's soul right now. But you needn't worry. Soon, you will all end up just like him."

"What about Saya?"

The question was abrupt enough to make Sakauchi's head snap up. It had come from Mimi, and when Hikari gathered enough strength to turn to look at her, she saw her shaking with suppressed anger.

Sakauchi's expression became neutral. His smile disappeared instantly. "What about her?"

"She's your sister, isn't she?" Mimi went on, rising to her feet. Her eyes were clouded with tears. "She's the one who brought us here to save him. Where is she?"

"Master has her," was the deadpanned answer. "She has betrayed him. Master does not forgive those who are disloyal to him. She is probably suffering the same fate as Hope."

Hikari's fingers curled into fists as she caught the way his lips twitched. He seemed... he seemed _excited_ about it. She could not understand how he could be so heartless. She remembered the fearful look that crossed his features mere hours ago. He had seemed so afraid. Lost. Misguided. Where had that child gone?

"She did it to save _you_ ," Ken said with a bitter undertone, stealing the words right out of Hikari's mouth. He was holding Patamon now, and Stingmon was standing in front of both of them protectively.

"She thought it would break you of Piemon's spell," Tailmon added with her eyes narrowed.

That did it.

Instantly, Sakauchi went stiff. Solid black eyes blew wide. Hikari's breath caught in her throat as something under Takeru's skin flickered and wavered. Sakauchi's soul. But... there was something more. A sliver of gold, choked by threads of darkness.

"She... she gave up her soul, for me?" he whispered, sounding less like Piemon's apathetic servant and more like the scared child Hikari encountered earlier that night.

It was Yamato who nodded, his eyes turning into steel. "She promised she would do what she could to save Takeru if we could help save you."

That pale glow again. Hikari pursed her lips, and then she gasped when she saw a glimpse of blue. It was only for a second, but Hikari swore the color in Takeru's eyes had returned for a second. She pushed herself to her feet.

A few feet away, there was a soft, breathy groan. Hikari stilled, turning to see Patamon lifting his head weakly. His eyes were grey and exhausted. Ken was instantly trying to console him, probably out of instinct. "Ta...Takeru...?"

Hikari glanced back at the boy inhabiting Takeru's body. Even though she was barely two feet from him, she had to squint to see. There it was again. A tiny tinge of blue.

"Takeru?" Yamato said and looked back at Sakauchi, the ice in his eyes long gone. "...Teek?" He took a step forward. "Teek, hey, look at me—"

"Don't touch me," Sakauchi shrieked, abruptly taking several steps back. He was pulling at Takeru's hair, black eyes wide and wild. "This body is _mine_ now! Your brother is gone!"

Hikari extended an arm to touch him, sudden determination bulleting through her. Takeru was there. She knew it. She had seen him. "Takeru, can you hear me?"

"No! No, he can't! He's not here!" He skidded backward again, frantically shaking Takeru's head back and forth; back and forth. Then, in a voice that did not belong to Sakauchi nor Takeru: "S-stop fighting m-me—!"

"Takeru, listen—!"

"He's dead!" Sakauchi exploded, and this time, his words were accompanied by a string of hysterical laughter. "Don't you get it? He _chose_ to jump off that building! He _chose_ to kill himself—!"

Hikari shook her head, reaching for him again. "No, no, Takeru, I know you're in there—"

"—a-and it was so easy," Sakauchi went on, now holding his sides as he continued to cackle. "H-he just—he barely even thought about it before he—"

"I don't care what you say," Hikari shouted, her hand finally coming to rest on Takeru's arm. "I need to talk to _him_ —"

A wince. Sakauchi shrank away. "—a-and to think that it took _this_ long to get him to break! H-he was so weak f-from the start—!"

"Takeru, you're still there—!"

"—and now he's b-been condemned to Hell for all—"

_"Listen to me!_ "

Her arms snaked up underneath Takeru's arms and she pressed her head to his chest, squeezing her eyes shut as Sakauchi released an animalistic wail. She refused to let go when he tried to push her away, fingers digging into his sweatshirt. "You're in there _somewhere_ , Takeru, so please, _please_ listen to me!"

"Let me go, you _witch_ —!"

"It must have been so hard," she continued, ignoring the tears that burned her eyes. "It must have been so scary, seeing all of those ghosts. Having all of those nightmares. Getting all those threats. Watching them hurt Yamato—"

Takeru's hands shoved her roughly once more. "Let me _go_ —"

"I—I don't know what it feels like to think that the only way to relieve your pain is to hurt yourself. You must have felt so alone." Her shoulders shook as she struggled to hang on. "But, Takeru, you're _not_ alone! You have never been!"

"— _why don't you get your hands_ off _of_ _me—_!"

She shook her head again, wincing as his fingernails dug into her arms and tried to ignore the way it stung. Sakauchi's soul was blinking like a flashlight underneath Takeru's skin.

"You don't have to lie anymore. You don't have to pretend. You don't have—"

"—s-stop—it hurts _—_!"

"You don't have to be afraid." She squeezed him tighter. Lifted her head so she could gaze into his eyes, searching for blue. "Remember when... when I couldn't fight off the Dark Ocean on my own? You came after me without even thinking about what would happen to you. And you've done the same now... with all of us—"

Sakauchi's struggling was starting to slow. Hikari let her head fall back to his chest, unable to stop the tears now. She had to get through to him. She _had_ to.

"You don't have to have that weight on your shoulders anymore, Takeru," she assured into his sweatshirt. "We're a team. Nii-san, Yamato, Sora, Miyako, Mimi, Jou, Iori, Koushiro, Daisuke, Ken... all of our partners... we're your friends, and we won't just stand here and—" A sob erupted from her throat. "We won't stand by and let you kill yourself to protect us!"

A thump. A heartbeat. Hikari's eyes bulged slightly and her throat was closing up, knowing what would happen if Sakauchi left Takeru's body. It... her crest healed her wounds, hadn't it? So would it heal his? Was that wishful thinking? She buried her head into his collarbone and squeezed her eyes shut, cringing when Sakauchi shrieked again in something akin to agony. The sound was mixed with Takeru's voice, and it hurt to hear him scream like that. But she had to keep trying.

"Have more faith in yourself," she murmured into his chest. "Don't you know how much we care about you, Takeru?"

Her words were not enough. He needed something to grab onto. Something to anchor him. She swallowed, still able to see the gold light even with her eyes closed. A tiny glowing sphere, growing paler and paler in color. In her mind, she reached for it. Stretched deep into the darkness, trying to dispel the sticky black cobwebs smothering her best friend's soul.

She reached further.

Further.

Even when it started to hurt. Pain shook every fiber of her being, but still, she strained herself to get to him. There was no way she would let him be consumed by darkness completely. Not when they had come all this way to save him.

Every muscle in her body seemed to tear as she pushed herself toward him. Her blood became fire and that fire spread and spread until each bone, each capillary, each vein was consumed. Until her entire body was a raging inferno. She was burning. Burning. Sakauchi was howling. Still, she reached. And her final words bubbled up behind her lips despite her pain, rolling off of her tongue before she could stop them:

"Don't you see that you're worthy of our protection as well?"

Sakauchi became extremely still. Light exploded around them.


	23. Coalesce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> goodness i am so sorry i just keep forgetting it's not even that it's not completed i finished this story literally two years ago i just. keep. forgetting. i'm sorry. thank you for being patient.

"So leave the light on, I'm coming home. It's getting darker but I'll carry on. The sun don't shine, but it never did; and when it rains, it fucking pours but I think I like it." — Doomed, Bring Me the Horizon

* * *

**Ch 23 || Coalesce**

Takeru was floating.

Once again, there was only darkness around him. Cold, unforgiving, sickening darkness. He tried to reach out, but his movements were slow as though he was buried in water. There was not an ounce of light. He was afraid, at first—but there were no painful heart palpitations. There was no spike of panic. His fingers were not tingling the way they usually did when he was overcome with fear. Only a _this is wrong_ feeling, lingering somewhere deep inside him.

When his gaze drifted downward, he realized why. His hands were there, yes. They were thin and smeared with dried blood. But they were not solid. His entire body was transparent.

"Wh-what?" he stuttered, without a voice. His lips parted, but the words could only echo distantly inside of his head, delicate and weak like an eggshell that could crack under even the smallest amount of pressure.

_What the heck?_

Where was his physical body? Just like before, trying to recall what had caused his predicament only brought forth confusion. He remembered pain, and he remembered blood. Another glance down showed him that he was bathed in it, but nothing hurt. Patamon... Piemon...?

Very slowly, he attempted to move his hands toward one another, but there was some sort of resistance, almost as though there was a magnetic field pushing his fingers away. So he tried to move his legs. To bend his knees. To even curl his toes. His efforts were futile. The results were the same. Everything below his neck seemed completely unable to function.

Somewhere above—below?—Takeru, there was a whisper of a giggle. It was so soft, and yet unsettling enough to cause Takeru's eyes to skitter around the empty black chasm that stretched beyond what he could see.

"You should not be so alarmed, dear Hope," Piemon said without even trying to hide the amusement and delight in his voice. "You are not used to being separated from your body. It is going to take a while for you to figure out how to move fluidly without it."

Hands came up behind him, and instinct was to stiffen in anticipation, to suck in a breath, but he could do no such thing. There were no muscles to control. There were no lungs to fill. The fear was there, phantomlike, but once again there were no physical sensations. Just a heavy feeling of unease that seemed to push him further and further into the darkness. He was like an image being projected on a screen.

An image that Piemon's gloved hands could somehow make tangible.

"You needn't try to breathe," Piemon continued smoothly. Almost tauntingly. When the mega digimon's body appeared in front of Takeru, his gaze only found the black and white mask which before today (yesterday?) he thought he would never see again. Piemon added, "Not anymore, anyway. Oxygen is not necessary when you are dead."

Dead.

Takeru was... he was dead.

He did not _feel_ dead. Just heavy. So, so heavy and smothered by this odd, cumbersome sense of wrongness. Or was this what death was supposed to feel like? Wandering without purpose or direction inside infinite nothingness? And if he was a floating spirit, then how could Piemon touch him? His hands were cold despite being covered by gloves.

Cold hands on him. Hands on him...

Vaguely, he remembered other ghosts reaching out to grab him. Miyuki had pressed her hand against his lips. Sakauchi had even crushed his windpipe. And all those hands... cold, knifelike fingers... pulling. Scratching. Slipping through his skin, passing through long stretches of muscle and arteries until they hit bone. They were dead and still able to touch him.

"Now, now," Piemon soothed quietly, but his voice was far from comforting. "Do not look so troubled. This was what you _wanted_ , correct? We did make a deal, after all."

He wished so desperately to be able to shout. To glare. To even spit on him. To do _something_ other than just stare, wide-eyed like a terrified animal looking into the murderous gaze of its predator. Piemon just smirked again—a smirk which soon became harrowing, wicked expulsions of laughter.

Because he was right. Images morphed and changed in his mind's eye as though they were being played in front of him on a movie screen, and it was not long before his memories crystallized completely. He was up on that rooftop, looking over the edge at a lake that sparkled almost threateningly under the silver moonlight. The deafening, haunting commands from ghosts around him: jump, jump, _jump_...!

And he did, but everything after throwing himself over the ledge was blank. Just like before, when he'd agreed to let Sakauchi take him to Piemon's lair...

Where was Sakauchi? And Saya? She was nowhere to be found inside that house. He would have recognized her, right? Where was his _body?_ Were his friends entirely safe now? And what about Patamon? Where was he now? There were so many questions, and he could not figure out how to voice them to find valid answers. Every time he opened his mouth to speak, the words would not come out. They just reverberated in the space of his mind which suddenly seemed ready to burst with unwanted and unpleasant memories.

"Come with me, child of Hope."

Takeru felt a strange, inescapable pull all of a sudden. It was like the magnetic field was back. He was tugged downward forcibly. Deeper. Deeper. He could not fight it; could only drift helplessly, wishing he could at least ask where they were headed. But it did not take him long to realize that wherever it was, it was not good.

It was hot.

It was cold.

He could not decide. He felt frozen, and yet it was as though he was being consumed by fire. This feeling of dread seemed to close all around him, like arms made of stone, encircling his entire being, reaching down, down, down into his core. He was being crushed. There was no way to break free; no relief. Everything felt so indescribably _wrong—_ like a sense of impending doom.

He was not sure how long Piemon had been dragging him. It felt like hours, but he had no way of knowing. At some point, he began to realize that he was not the only one meandering slowly inside this vast expanse of darkness. He heard voices somewhere in the distance, and it was not long before they grew in volume.

At first, they were just fragments. Hushed, indecipherable words, floating around and around just like he was. The further he went, the clearer the voices became. Soon, words merged and twisted around to form complete sentences:

_"Master's_ _brought another one, has he?"_

_"He seems different from the rest, don't you think?"_

_"Yes, yes, he is brighter than any of us."_

_"Oh, but not for long."_

_"Do you think he will give us a taste?"_

Something moved. Beady red eyes soon took shape within the darkness, crinkled with anticipation and greed. Then Takeru saw faces, unnaturally pale and stretched far too thin, far too wide. He saw long strings of hair. He saw teeth, too sharp to belong to any human.

"Go on, dearies," Piemon's voice boomed, splitting through the darkness like an ax coming down to strike a piece of wood. He was looking at Takeru as though he was an executioner, rendering his final judgment. "I have the piece that I desire. The rest is yours for the taking."

The demented spirits pounced.

Takeru reached deep inside, trying to find his voice. He felt as though he was stuck in an episode of sleep paralysis: frozen and barely able to keep his eyes open, unable to speak, unable to find a sense of control.

Somehow, in this world without light, without the ability to feel anything other than flashes of hot and cold, Takeru was in pain. It was excruciating. He tried to scream, but still, it was futile. The sound only resonated through his head, muffled like his face was covered with a thick cloth. Once again, he had no lungs into which he could draw air, but he wanted so badly to breathe; to get away from this suffocating, searing pain.

_G-get off me..._

_Please... stop..._

_Let me go...!_

He could feel their razorlike teeth mercilessly piercing through him as though he was still made of flesh and bone. It started somewhere on his toes. The pain slowly ebbed upward like spiders were crawling up the expanse of his legs. Animalistic noises reverberated into vacant black space, sickening and boisterous. They chewed deeper and deeper until Takeru heard a crack.

Until he heard something tear.

Until he heard a crunch.

Until he felt like he was being crushed.

_"—LISTEN TO ME!"_

Without knowing how he did so, Takeru found the strength to open his eyes. The voice carried far above any of the sounds of the spirits, warm and comforting and undeniably familiar. Takeru was suddenly tugged upward, so fast and so hard that the spirits had no choice but to release him.

Their cries of dismay became muted as Takeru heard the voice speaking again. He could not make out all of their words. Whoever was speaking was cutting in and out like radio static, and he could only catch small pieces.

"...have felt so alone..."

"...have never been...!"

"...don't have to be afraid..."

Up. Up. Up. He was growing warmer now, and as he ascended through the blackness surrounding him, he swore he could see a small shard of pink light. The voice belonged to a female, he realized, and it was becoming louder. Calling out. Calling for him.

"...we're a team... Yamato, Sora... Jou... of our partners..."

"...stand by and let you kill yourself—!"

Everything stopped. Another tug, but in the opposite direction. Takeru was aware that Piemon was looming in front of him now, his face twisted with fury and impatience.

"I am not letting you go so easily," he hissed, reaching out to grab him and pull him back down.

Except Takeru moved out of the way.

For a second time, he was not sure where the strength had come from. He maneuvered quickly and without even thinking, and Piemon's hand could only grope the hollow space that Takeru's soul had previously occupied. He felt pain once more, but it was not as bad as before. He willed himself to move upward, imagining that the feminine voice was the magnet this time, and pictured himself getting closer to her. Closer. Closer. Piemon could no longer reach him—the mega digimon was pushed away every time he moved toward him.

Somebody was screaming. A terrible, inhuman sound, ricocheting all around him. Still, Takeru could only focus on her. The back of his mind informed him that he had felt this sensation before—of her pulling him in her direction—over three years ago. Except Patamon and Tailmon were not with him, and he was not on a beach.

"...don't you know how much we care about you, Takeru?"

One of his hands extended without his control, and he reached for the tiny pink orb. It was so warm. _She_ was warm. He could see fingers if he squinted, and when his shoulder rolled so his arm was rising above his head, Takeru realized that the color was beginning to return to his skin. He was growing brighter and brighter.

He saw her hand, bathed in pink. She was trying to pull him out; to heal his damaged soul. Takeru moved faster. Found his voice. Found his own warmth and allowed it to merge with hers.

"Don't you see that you're worthy of our protection as well?"

Takeru shouted her name at the same moment Piemon shrieked in absolute rage. He had to close his eyes as the world became illuminated with streams of pink and gold, and then his hand dusted against hers. When he tried to thread his fingers into hers, his hand slipped through her skin. So he tried again. Again. It took several attempts to finally make contact.

And she pulled.

* * *

Gradually, _gradually,_ Takeru became aware of the ground beneath him. Of the cold breeze. He had a body. Arms. Legs. Fingers. Toes. His hands curled into fists slowly. Experimentally. He could hear his pulse echoing loudly in his ears, and he was dizzy. There was someone... someone in front of him... holding him... a pink light...

A pillar of pink light and an overwhelming feeling of pure exhaustion.

Takeru inhaled sharply as his legs folded beneath him. Somebody followed him as he fell, slender wrists curled tightly underneath his arms. Fingers were digging into his shoulder blades. Takeru squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to get the world from swimming.

"Hikari," Tailmon's voice breathed out in awe and relief, "it _worked._ You brought him back!"

"Takeru?" another voice whispered, hopeful and soft. Takeru peeled his eyes open again, trying to ignore the pounding in his head.

He drank in Hikari's pale, tearstained face. Her red-webbed rusty brown eyes. Her fearful expression. Timidly, Takeru hands reached up to cup both of her cheeks just to make sure she was really there.

Indeed she was, and she was warm. Her hands rested on his slowly. Tenderly. A watery smile played her lips, and his thumbs instinctively skimmed over the skin under her eyes, wiping away her tears. Hikari, here and safe and _alive._

Wait a second.

Hikari was here.

Hikari was _here_ and not safe and was going to be killed.

Takeru's eyes popped and he instantly withdrew his hands, terrified and confused. "Wh-what're you doing here?" His voice was hoarse. "You're... you're not supposed to be here! Piemon is—!"

Hikari scooted toward him slowly, hands moving to rest on his shoulders. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jou's voice said instead, "Um, well, it's kind of too late, Takeru. We're already here."

More movement. Takeru's head inclined upward, and his gaze weaved from one face to another: Jou. Ken. Mimi. Stingmon. Garurumon. Togemon. Tailmon. Ikkakumon. His brother.

"Wh-what...?" He blinked slowly, at a loss, and feeling panic creep into his skin. What was going on? Was this how Hikari had pulled him out of the darkness? Because she and the others had traveled here? "I... I don't understand—"

"Hey," somebody said, quietly, and sounding strangely choked. Hikari shifted slightly in front of him, and then his brother's face came into view, closer than before. "Don't worry, alright, Teek? Just tell me if anything hurts."

Takeru looked back and forth between Yamato and Hikari, who still looked drained and somewhat afraid. "N...no, I'm just..." He drew in a shaky breath, wondering why it was taking him a while to get used to the process of breathing again, and swallowed heavily. "...'m dizzy."

It was true. The world refused to stop spinning. He felt little pain other than the ache in his head, but he was extremely tired. Like he was going to faint. Without thinking his gaze shot upward, and his stomach twisted with nausea when he saw thick, vinelike tendrils wrapping around a tall building.

The house.

The house which he had just...

Takeru sucked in another breath of shock, suddenly feeling as though he was up there again. A shiver rippled through his entire body, and then they just kept coming. He could not stop shaking. There was absolutely no way someone would survive a fall like that. He certainly hadn't planned on surviving, anyway. He had... how had he...?

Suddenly Takeru was wrapped up in a familiar, strong embrace. Yamato rested his chin on Takeru's hair, holding him in a death grip, and his voice broke when he said, "Don't you _ever_ do that again, do you hear me?"

Takeru did not know what to do. He was still so confused and lightheaded. He found himself nodding, lacking the energy to offer anything other than a weak squeeze in return. He was unsure of what to say. He could feel Yamato trembling, almost as badly as he was, and felt guilt and shame sweep over him.

He had died.

_He had actually died,_ and Hikari brought him back. He wasn't sure what was worse: the fact that he had not succeeded, the fact that he _sort of_ succeeded, or the fact that he _would have_ succeeded if she had not reached in and saved him.

Yamato held him for a little while longer, seeming afraid to let go. Takeru just let him. It could have been seconds. It could have been minutes. When he finally pulled away, Hikari crawled closer again, placing a hand on Takeru's.

"I was right," she whispered, her face awash with tears. "Your wounds... they've closed up." She swallowed. "But there are still scars..."

She reached up as if to caress his face, and he did not stop her. Then, hesitantly, he murmured, "You... you pulled me out... of the darkness..."

_You brought me back from death._

It was then that he realized the warm glow emitting from her. It was just like the glow which encompassed his own partner when they were running from... Takeru tried to stifle another shiver. Hikari's smile was weak but genuine. "Did you think we would not fight for you, Takeru?"

There was a lump somewhere in his throat, and he could not figure out how to get rid of it. Tears pricked at his eyes, hot and untamable, and he chewed the inside of his lip, lowering his eyes and trying to ignore the way his nose burned.

Yamato was still close to him, he realized, and he squeezed his other hand tightly. Very carefully, Ken was walking toward them, and it was then that he noticed the weak digimon in his arms.

Without having to be prompted, Ken knelt down in the free space between Yamato and Hikari, allowing a breathless Patamon to crawl feebly into Takeru's lap. Ken said quietly, "He wasn't going to give you up without a fight, either."

Patamon melted almost instantly as Takeru slowly slid free of Yamato and Hikari's hands so he could pet his partner, taking immediate notice of how dull his eyes were. The moment Takeru made physical contact with him, however, Patamon seemed to perk up. He rubbed his cheek into the palm of Takeru's hand instinctively.

"I thought you were really gone," Patamon whimpered, not even bothering to hide his tears.

"We all did," Mimi spoke up abruptly, her voice soft and watery. She released a wobbly laugh. "Damn it, you're almost as reckless as Taichi!"

She hugged him then, nearly pushing everyone else out of the way. He sat motionless for a few moments, once again stunned into silence. Takeru felt small all of a sudden, and it wasn't because Mimi had a good three inches on him. He was surrounded by all these people, and when he glanced up, Jou was making his way toward them as well.

Mimi wiped at her eyes just as Takeru started to return her embrace, and Jou said awkwardly, "Not that I'm not incredibly relieved to see you alive and no longer possessed by an evil demon ghost-child... _thing_ , but... are you sure you're ok? You, um. You did lose a lot of blood."

Takeru bit his lip again, purposefully avoiding looking down at his sweatshirt. And his hands. And his legs. And the house behind them. He didn't want to see the vines, or the blood, or the concerned and horrified expressions of his friends who had come all this way to make sure he didn't do what he just did. He studied the yellow grass, wondering what it was _supposed_ to feel like to come back to his body after Piemon told him his soul was up for grabs.

Now that he was out of the darkness, things were coming back to him. He'd only heard bits and pieces of what Hikari had said to him earlier, and now, for some reason, it was like he had heard the whole thing. He still wanted to cry, but all he could do to just sit there.

He almost felt... numb. Numb and scared. Nothing really hurt—at least not nearly as much as it had before. Everything that had caused him to writhe and scream in pain earlier stung only slightly like he had a very mild sunburn.

"I'm... I'm just tired," he admitted softly through the tightness in his throat. Timidly added, "And sore. And... and cold."

Ken and Mimi gave him a few feet of space, but Yamato refused to leave his side. Hikari stayed close as well, something which Takeru was thankful for because she was really warm still, almost like a furnace. The closer he was to her, the more the numbness faded.

Hesitantly, Jou knelt down in front of him and reached forward to pull up Takeru's sleeve: an action that made Takeru recoil instantly. Hikari's gaze immediately darkened, and with an almost silent sigh, Jou tried placing his index and middle fingers to Takeru's neck instead, as if to check his pulse. Then his hand dusted against Takeru's forehead. And his cheek. And once again to his neck. If he weren't so exhausted, Takeru would have been embarrassed. But he didn't care.

"Your pulse is racing," Jou said quietly. "And you are cool to the touch."

It was Garurumon who came up to him now, rubbing his nose against Takeru's cheek as if the gesture would help warm him up. Tailmon, who was obediently and silently sitting by Hikari's side, maneuvered slightly so she was sandwiched between her and Takeru, resting a gloved paw on the chosen of Hope's knee. Stingmon, Togemon, and Ikkakumon were circling all of them protectively, each of them looking back and forth between the group of humans and the house which pulsed visibly behind them.

Finally, Takeru murmured, "Piemon is coming back for me." His eyes captured Hikari's. "For us."

"I'm not going to let him take you again," Yamato said with absolute certainty. His hand came to rest on Takeru's shoulder and he squeezed gently. "That's a promise."

"That's coming from us as well," Mimi said firmly.

Ken gave a small smile. "Friends don't let friends try to sell their souls to evil digimon."

"Even if that digimon is really powerful and wants to cut off our heads," Jou added, sounding slightly nervous, but there was a tiny smile on his face as well.

Takeru almost snorted. It was not funny. Really, it wasn't. So he should not have laughed. But he did, and it must have made him seem so insane because he could not figure out how to stop.

Until Patamon whispered, "He still has your crest and digivice."

Hikari's fingers moved so they were curled around the luminous trinket hanging around her neck. Her touch was like an activation switch, and the light that bathed both of them was just like it was earlier: comforting and mellow and forever warm.

When it faded, Takeru felt the chills dancing all over his body start to dissipate. In his lap, Patamon shifted. He rose to his feet, flapping his wings once. Twice. Three times. Then he was floating in front of Takeru's face, and Tailmon expelled a sharp gasp.

"Hikari, your crest..." Her eyes were wide with disbelief. "It... it _changed._ "

All eyes fell upon the crest. Takeru's own eyes popped as he realized Tailmon was right: it was pink, mixed with gold. The shapes resembling flower petals were now circling a symbol that Takeru immediately recognized as his own crest. It was like the sunrise-like emblem was emitting little pink rays of light.

Without realizing it, Takeru reached out to touch it. Instantly, the trinket thumped repeatedly and rapidly almost like it was in tune with his heartbeat. He was breathless with awe, confused, and yet strangely at peace. The moment his fingers dusted against Hikari's crest, he felt as though he had not spent the summer haunted by ghosts. As though Piemon was not even here. As though every ounce of panic, of dizziness, of doubt, never existed.

"Did..." Ken looked at the two of them with wide eyes, examining their faces with a shocked expression. "Did they... _combine?_ "

"How?" Mimi asked in surprise and confusion.

"Has... that's never happened before, has it?" Jou asked.

Tailmon's gaze wandered from Hikari to Takeru, and then she looked at Ken and Wormmon. "Is it like the effects of a Jogress evolution?"

Hikari shook her head before either of them could respond, and she murmured, "No... this feels... different somehow. I... I just feel..." Her expression became pensive. "It's hard to describe. I... I can feel your heartbeat, just like I feel Miyako's, but... I don't know."

She could _feel_ his heartbeat? Takeru was so confused. He was startled when Yamato gave him a thoughtful look, placing a hand on his cheek. "You're... you're not as cold now, Takeru."

"I feel warmer, too," Patamon said quietly. He looked up at Takeru, and for some reason, there was a smile on his face. "Don't you feel it, Takeru? The energy... it's so strong."

"Even I sense it," Garurumon said, nudging his nose against Yamato's hair, and then turning to do the same to Takeru. "Do you feel better?"

Takeru was still trying to figure out where his voice had gone for the second time. His eyes went back and forth between Hikari's face and her crest, remembering how drawn to her he was when he'd been stuck in the darkness...

"You insolent, _foolish_ little girl!"

Takeru jumped again as the words boomed over all of them like thunder. He wasn't the only one to snap his head up, and he probably wasn't the only one who felt like he couldn't breathe when he saw Piemon soaring toward them.

"Stupid, stupid child!" His face was a mixture of rage and hatred as he landed only about twenty feet away with the intention of getting closer. His murderous gaze snapped to Takeru. "How _dare_ you betray me! You gave me your soul! I can do what I want with it! You are _mine!_ "

Instantly, all of their digimon partners gathered in front of them protectively. Yamato was pushing Takeru backward slightly, squeezing his hand with more force than necessary, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mimi pulling Hikari back by the shoulders.

This did not stop Piemon. Takeru's panic came back instantly, hitting him like a large, powerful wave of water. What was going to happen now?

"Stay behind me," Yamato whispered quietly and tensely, shifting so he was shielding Takeru with his body entirely.

Takeru opened his mouth to speak but he could not think of anything to say to his brother before Piemon came to a halt barely a foot away from Garurumon. His fists were clenched with irritation and his eyes bled menace and a wish for destruction.

For a brief moment, a deranged part of Takeru's brain wondered why he had stopped. Piemon was merciless. He would not wait to deliver the final blow if he had the chance, and yet he just stood there, seething quietly. Takeru was stiff with anticipation and fear.

Hikari's hand rested on one of his own, and she squeezed gently. He swallowed, risking a glance in her direction, but she was not looking at him. Her eyes were locked solely on the mega digimon looming in front of them, and her free hand was gripping her crest. Her expression was unreadable, but somehow, he knew she was as scared as he was. Could _feel_ it, somewhere deep in his chest. A small, strange pulse of dread alongside his own untameable fear. Takeru swallowed.

"Why isn't he moving?" Ken whispered in horror.

No one offered an answer to his question. Piemon's face suddenly became neutral, and he deadpanned, "You really have no idea what you have done, do you, little girl?"

It was obvious that the words were directed toward Hikari. She did not move a muscle, even when Piemon's eyes searched her as if their digimon were not even there to guard her. Then he stared emotionlessly at Takeru and continued flatly: "Your soul was damaged, Hope. So damaged that your existence should have been completely eradicated. But she reached inside herself to rip out a part of her own soul to make up for the pieces which my servants consumed. You know what that means, right?"

Hikari was... she had... she had given up a part of her soul... so he could live? That was how she brought him back? Takeru's heart stuttered, and he felt as though his lungs had stopped functioning entirely. His gaze landed on his best friend once more, eyes popped wide with terror and disbelief. This time, Hikari's eyes were huge as well, and he ventured a guess that she had not known that was what happened.

"A part of Light's soul resides within his body. You are connected even in death."

A smirk claimed the edges of Piemon's lips.

"If I kill one of you, the other one dies as well. Maybe this turned out to be in my favor after all!"

Released an insane cackle that made Takeru shudder.

"There's nothing you can do to stop it this time, little boy Hope. Soon, you will all be dead!"

Pushed himself into the air, flying backward a few feet. Threw his arms out and continued to laugh maniacally.

"Soon, everything you cherish will be _mine!"_

They were still huddled close together when the light of the moon above them disappeared completely, bathing the world in shadows save for the red tint of the barrier encasing Piemon's lair and the glow of his friends' crests. Pink and gold. Blue. Green. Light grey. Takeru's eyes widened when he saw a slightly darker shade of pink, almost purple, emit from under Ken's shirt.

At first, everything was still. Piemon was drifting skyward, his chuckles quieting the further he went. Takeru remained tense behind his brother, his heart thundering against his chest. He was, for once, incredibly grateful that he was not alone, and he squeezed Yamato's and Hikari's hands with as much strength as he could muster. Soaked up the warmth that seemed to drift around them like clouds of smoke—warmth which belonged to Patamon, his brother, his best friend, and the rest of his team—as the rest of the world suddenly became colder, colder, colder.

And then Takeru heard screaming. He heard moaning. He heard more laughter: eerie, crazed, haunting laughter, echoing. It stemmed from each and every direction. Surrounding him. Surrounding them. The crimson tint around Piemon's house suddenly started to crack as though it was made of glass.

He saw eyes, just like before. Deranged, almost bloodthirsty eyes, looking right at him. Even a distance away, Takeru could feel them probing his entire body, searching and tracing him as if they knew the exact location of every muscle, every vein, every bone hidden beneath the protection of his flesh.

He saw hands, legs, arms, faces. Actual bodies, slamming against the walls like angry animals determined to break free of their cages. Bodies of ghosts whom he had encountered in the past. Bodies of ghosts he had never seen before. Takeru stared wide-eyed at the barrier as the chinks spread and spread until the entire dome was covered in massive spiderwebs of cracks.

Then.

Then it burst.

"Um, guys," Jou said anxiously, his voice seeming almost like a whisper compared to the noise around them; "should we start running?"

Run _where?_ Takeru barely had time to even think of an answer before he was scooped up, but by who he did not know. They were moving, and fast. Lights flared behind him, signaling more evolutions, but Takeru's horrified gaze was locked on the swamp of ghosts heading straight for them, flickering collectively like a huge lightbulb that wasn't screwed in properly.

Patamon said as loud as he could from on Takeru's lap, "We have to move faster! If they touch you, they'll steal your soul!"

Garurumon. He was riding on Garurumon who dodged and jumped over trees and logs with questionable grace. Yamato was sitting right in front of him. Togemon had evolved into Lilymon and was carrying Mimi, and Stingmon had Ken tucked tightly in his arms. Angewomon was carrying Hikari, and Jou was riding atop Ikkakumon, who was noticeably slower than the rest of them. Panic exploded in Takeru's chest.

Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it. Takeru's hands moved so he was holding onto his brother, with Patamon sandwiched between them, and out of instinct, he buried his head into Yamato's shoulder blades. This was not good. He was terrified now, and he knew that that was part of what the ghosts were drawn to. Their fear. He was shaking again and Yamato was commanding Garurumon to move faster, faster, faster.

He did. They ran. And they ran. And Takeru didn't dare look back; he knew they were still there. Could still hear them screeching and moaning. His skin was already crawling at the very thought of their hands reaching for him, climbing up his limbs...

Many times, Takeru had run for his life. Many times, it was from creatures that could not be explained by science, just like these ghouls. Many times, he was uncertain of whether or not they would make it.

This was one of those times.

"If they get us," Takeru said loudly into Yamato's shirt, "they'll kill us."

"They aren't going to get us," Yamato shouted in reassurance, his grip tightening on Garurumon's fur. "I promised I'd bring you home safe, Teek, and I'm going to keep that promise. Just hold on tight. We'll figure something out. We'll figure out a way to kill them."

"How do you kill a _ghost?_ " Jou asked frantically.

"Maybe..." Ken hedged, but his next sentence was lost in the shrieks of the ghouls chasing them. But then: "We might not have to fight them!"

"What does that mean?" Garurumon said.

Takeru lifted his head so he was looking at Ken, but his friend was focused on the ghosts. Takeru risked a glance in their direction and almost immediately turned away because they were definitely closer than they had been before and he wondered if it would be long before all of them were swallowed whole.

"Hikari purified Saya," Ken told them, raising his voice to a shout; "and our crests have the ability to heal!"

"But there are so many of them," Lilymon cried, zooming over Garurumon with frantic speed. Many more screams and questions followed Lilymon's words, but Takeru's mind was stuck on one thing.

"She... purified... a ghost...?"

Not just any ghost. She'd purified Saya. Saya who had lured Takeru away from his friends and into the very same forest in which they were presently trapped. Saya who had somehow wielded enough power to create a raucous, powerful windstorm that sent him and Yamato running just like they were now. Saya who had landed Yamato in the hospital, bruised and disoriented. Saya who sent Miyuki after him. Saya who threatened his life and the lives of his friends and family.

Takeru found Hikari and Angewomon again, heart still racing, eyes huge and terrified. And then, when he turned back, his blood ran cold.

"Onii-san, STOP!"

For some odd, unknown reason, all of the digimon obeyed. Everyone came to a screeching halt despite knowing that doing so would put them all in inescapable danger. Takeru did not care all of a sudden, his gaze trapped on one being who stood unmoving in the middle of the hellish labyrinth of a grove that seemed to have no exit.

Saya, barely four feet tall, with thick brown curls and a face full of life and color and sad honey-brown eyes. There was no blood or dirt on her dress. No dark tendrils slithering around her. Just a tiny, ordinary child, staring right at him.

Everything seemed to freeze. Every drop of sound seemed to be erased from the world entirely like someone had found a mute button. As soon as Saya's gaze locked with Takeru's, she took a step forward. One more. Two more. Three. Four. She walked until she was mere centimeters away from Garurumon's nose, and she held out her hand as if to pet the wolflike digimon.

Except she did not. She extended it upward, uncurling her fingers the way a flower unfurled in the spring, revealing to him what lay inside her palm: his crest, altered to look identical to Hikari's; and his digivice.

Takeru hesitated, unable to speak or even figure out how to move. It was Yamato who reached out to grab both trinkets, and when he coaxed his crest over Takeru's head and around his neck, another pillar gold and pink light shot upward, cloaking all that surrounded him: the trees, the lake, his friends, the digimon, Saya, and the ghouls which were locked in place barely thirty feet away.

There was a brief, dislocated moment when Takeru could not tell if he was asleep or awake. He could not feel anything around him; could not hear his friends; could not see. And when the moment passed and the lights dimmed enough so his surroundings became visible and recognizable once more, Takeru was staring at a being encased in blue and gold armor which gleamed and shimmered like water under a sunset.

Words echoed somewhere close to him, but it took Takeru a few moments to figure out what was being said, and who was speaking. Multiple voices, all belonging to his friends and brother:

"...whoa..."

"...the hell just happened...?"

"...so warm here..."

"...can't believe Patamon digivolved...!"

"...how...?"

"...is it just me, or is anyone else freaked out that the ghosts are just staring at us now?"

The last one snapped Takeru out of his trance, and his gaze weaved from the metallic angel to the direction in which half of them were staring. His breath stopped somwehere in his throat, and his eyes were so wide that he did not know if they could get any bigger.

Indeed the ghosts had stopped, but they did not seem like the malevolent, greedy creatures that had been after their souls moments—minutes? Hours?—ago. Gazing at them now were rows upon rows of humans, children and adults alike, all encompassed in a strange, otherworldly glow. There were so many different colors, like a rainbow, splayed majestically in front of them, vibrant and endless: yellow, green, blue, pink, red, orange...

Takeru would have considered it beautiful. Magical, even.

Except they all stood motionless and unblinking like life-sized plastic dolls, and he could not ignore the blanket of panic that rolled over his body.

"Wh-what's going on?" he whispered slowly, and his voice was shaky and hoarse and foreign to his own ears.

"You," Saya began, somehow sounding so much older than she looked; "and the chosen of Light have broken the chains that bound them to Piemon, just like she did to me. But that does not mean he cannot regain control." And then: "Look up."

High in the sky, where the clouds dispersed to reveal the ivory glow of the moon, his partner and Piemon floated, barely ten feet apart. Takeru's heart was claustrophobic at that moment, pounding frantically at his chest like it wanted to see what was displayed on the other side.

"Patamon," he called out. No, that wasn't right. He wasn't Patamon anymore. Takeru swallowed heavily, his hands digging into Garurumon's fur. "Seraphimon, be... be careful!"

_He could kill you,_ flitted through his mind immediately.

Briefly, Seraphimon faced him, but his expression was hidden beneath a blue and gold helmet, so Takeru had no way of knowing what he was thinking. But then his partner said, "He has made you suffer for far too long, Takeru. It's time this comes to an end."

Piemon's grin was malicious and crooked, almost like it had been carved onto his face with a knife. "Oh? Are you sure it is not you who will _come to an end?_ "

A beam of light swallowed Seraphimon whole, but it faded in only a few seconds, and then he was wielding a sword bathed in a celestial blue light: Excalibur. Piemon's smirk faltered briefly before he drew two of four swords out, and his brows quirked upward.

"I suppose I could humor you for a little bit," he said tauntingly.

Takeru watched with large eyes, but his gaze could not keep up with them for long. They were moving too fast, swords clashing and clanking together over and over again to create a symphony of steel and roaring wind. This was a bizarre melody without rhythm; a deadly dance between angel and demon.

"You have to get out here, quickly," Saya said in a hushed voice, drawing Takeru attention away from the battle above them. He felt a hand rest on his arm, and it only took him seconds to realize that it had been his brother.

"He's gonna be fine, Takeru," Yamato reassured, squeezing his shoulder tightly. "C'mon."

He did not remember agreeing, but suddenly everyone was moving, but this time, it was in the direction of the ghosts. Takeru's eyes drifted skyward again, but Piemon and Seraphimon were disappearing and reappearing behind and in front of clouds, flickering like candle lights.

"Is going toward the creepy Hellhouse really a good idea?" Jou shouted hysterically.

"It's not like we have any other choice," Mimi replied loudly.

Takeru looked forward again just as Garurumon raced blindly into the colorful sea of spirits. His eyes clamped shut instinctively and he braced himself, squeezing Yamato as tightly as he could manage, anxiously awaiting the icy feeling that always spread through his body when he came into contact with them. He waited. Waited. When the feeling never came and gasps of wonder and awe echoed around him, Takeru risked peeping one eye open.

And his breath stopped.

The ghosts were stepping back to make a path just for them, parting like the water had years ago when he went with the original Chosen to Gennai's house. Garurumon had not even attempted to stop anyway, and neither had the rest of the digimon, but there was no time for asking questions.

Saya was afloat next to Lilymon, eyes forever full of sorrow, and she said, "We need to get to his chambers!"

"Why do we need to go back there?" Jou shrieked.

"Because you need to destroy the portal!"

Takeru suddenly felt very heavy, and his grip on Yamato slackened. They were going back to that house. Back to that house and... and did they have to go _inside?_ The panic was back again, and this time he did not know how he could make it leave. If they went inside that house, they would not be able to come back out unless Piemon allowed them to. Even if the barrier was broken.

_"You're stuck here, don't you see? The moment you entered this house, escape became impossible. There's no way out."_

"Nii-san," he gasped out, his voice choked with terror and doubt, "Nii-san, wait! If you go in there, we'll be trapped forever!"

"You've got your crest back, Takeru." Hikari's voice was firm. "And we've got ours. Seraphimon is holding him off. You've got to have faith that we can do this!"

Angewomon swooped downward so she and Hikari were closer to the ground. Then his best friend was eye-level with him, and she extended her arm to reach for his hand.

He hesitated for a moment, but the fire in Hikari's eyes was enough to coax him to take it, and without warning, he was lifted off of Garurumon and into Angewomon's arms.

Yamato turned with wide eyes as if to ask what the hell they were doing, but even Takeru was not sure, and before he could even think of an explanation, Angewomon took to the sky with a grace only she could achieve, above the rest of their friends and the digimon.

Above Saya.

Above the spirits.

Takeru asked, "What're we going to do?"

"Just what Saya said," Hikari told him. "We're going to destroy the portal."

" _How?_ "

"Honestly," Hikari replied, "I have no idea."

Takeru swallowed, realizing he was still holding her hand in a death grip. He didn't dare let go, though, even as the distance between them and the huge house Peimon called his lair became smaller and smaller. The swampy, sickening darkness pushed down on them immediately, and Takeru could feel his pulse ringing in his ears and his whole body tingling with anxiety, but still, they pushed forward. His brother and their teammates were not far behind.

The sound of steel clashing together reached them, and he knew that they did not have much time. He told Hikari as much, and she said, "I know. We'll have to hurry."

"GET _AWAY_ FROM THERE!"

Angewomon swooped downward once again without warning, narrowly avoiding being struck by one of Piemon's swords. Then Takeru's socked feet were brushing against dead grass, and it took every ounce of willpower he had to stop his knees from buckling. Hikari was next to him, and their hands were ripped apart by the force of their landing, both of them stumbling forward but not falling.

"Watch out," Seraphimon shouted. "TAKERU!"

Seconds later, Takeru was blinded. Seraphimon had called out an attack, but the sound of it was louder than his voice. Takeru had not heard what it was called. A thin, powerful thread of lightning shot downward, but it was not aimed at him. It had been directed toward Piemon, who was only about ten feet away from him.

The moment the clown digimon was struck, he was rendered immobilized. Takeru backpedaled immediately, eyes huge with horror and shock, and instantly was shoved into a sleek, strong pair of arms. Stingmon had a hold of him and instantly shouted Ken's name.

Because Piemon had thrown his sword before he was hit, and it was heading straight for him.

Ken went down at once, clutching his side. Takeru did not see blood, at first; and Jou leapt off of Ikkakumon without hesitation and bolted in their direction. Yamato was by Takeru's side in seconds, and Mimi was holding Hikari. The digimon stood in front of them protectively, pushing them back.

"Are you ok, Ken?" Jou asked, lifting his shirt right away to inspect the wound.

"Y-yeah," Ken replied but winced heavily as the fabric brushed against the cut. "I-it's just a nick, I think."

"It doesn't look too deep," Jou said, throwing Ken's arm over his own shoulders in a rush and hauling him upward. Takeru's heart dropped and his feet started to move toward his friend, but Yamato held him back.

"I'm ok," Ken said shakily to him and Stingmon, trying to smile. "Really, it's just a scratch. Don't... don't run off like that again, ok?"

"He's right," Yamato said, his eyes turning into steel as he glanced between Takeru and Hikari. "What were you two _thinking?_ "

Before Takeru could offer a response, Mimi said, "Guys, we can talk about that later. Piemon is moving again!"

She had moved to help Jou and Ken to safety, and then circled back around to make sure Hikari was unharmed from landing so suddenly. She spoke to Takeru, but his eyes were focused solely on the mega digimon glaring in their direction, twitching as the paralysis spell from Seraphimon's lightning attack began to fade.

Piemon rolled his neck as he regained complete control, his eyes murderous. Seraphimon landed gracefully in front of the group of humans and digimon, prepared for another fight.

"I'll kill you," Piemon hissed venomously, "I'll kill _all of you!_ You cannot stop me, no matter what you do!"

"You're insane," Seraphimon said.

"Am I?"

He definitely looked the part: arms now spread out like wings, face twisted with demented excitement. Laughter spewed from his lips, a deranged lullaby which only he found alluring. It was then that Takeru noticed Piemon's gloves were smeared with blood. It stained his collar as well, and his shoes. Even his mask was splattered with drops of crimson.

Takeru shuddered when he came to the realization that the blood belonged to a human. It belonged to _him_.

Yamato slid an arm around him protectively, and Takeru's gaze dropped to his own hands. He remembered seeing blood on them earlier, but despite the cold, he was sweating, and while he had been holding onto Garurumon, it must have rubbed off. But it remained on his sweatshirt—Yamato's sweatshirt, now tattered and stained—and the rest of his clothes. He could not imagine what his face looked like.

"You already killed me," he whispered hollowly, and it had come out without his consent, loud enough for Piemon to hear.

"You killed yourself," Piemon replied gleefully. "All I had to do was taunt you."

His jaw tightened all of a sudden. Takeru felt a white-hot wave of rage wash over him, and he did not know he could feel so much hatred for one being as he did at that moment. Piemon had robbed him of his sense of control, of his friendships, of his faith in himself. Piemon had made him feel unsafe and so, so alone. Piemon had threatened to hurt everyone he cherished. Piemon had stolen his summer. Piemon had destroyed his spirit to the point where he had not been able to repair it all by himself.

Piemon had taken so much from him, and yet here Takeru was, about to let him take more. He couldn't be scared anymore. He couldn't just give up. Hikari had been right: he needed faith that they could do this.

" _Don't you see that you're worthy of our protection as well?_ "

"Seraphimon," he said without emotion, raising his eyes so he could look at the creature he thought he would never see again; "kill Piemon."

As soon as the words fell out of his mouth, the colorful glow of the spirits swayed and danced, shifting as though his command had flipped a switch. The ghosts turned, doll-like eyes slowly tracing the small clearing they were in: the dead grass and trees, the threads of darkness that slithered around Piemon like serpents.

Piemon seemed ready to retort. To laugh again. To mock them. But just as his lips parted, the ghosts shimmered collectively like a rainbow of diamonds. Bodies came together to form long, colorful streams of light, shooting toward Piemon in seconds. They wrapped around him like ropes: held his legs, his arms, his torso, his neck. His cry of surprise and frustration was muted as they pulled and pulled at him until he was splayed out like a star.

"Hikari," Takeru said, without moving to face her. "Have Angewomon shoot an arrow at the house."

She nodded instantly, turning to relay the message. Then she reached out; rested a hand on his bicep. Yamato's arm had not moved from its place around his shoulders. Still, Takeru's gaze remained on Piemon, who was now unable to move, unable to make a sound.

He watched as Seraphimon readied his sword and soared toward Piemon. Angewomon took to the sky, drawing back her bow.

Released her arrow.

Plunged his sword deep into Piemon's chest.

There was a loud, violent pulse, strong enough to shake the very ground on which they stood. A sphere of light formed between the two angels, spinning and spinning as it gradually increased in size, and then Takeru was blinded for a third time that night. Then a veil of silence blanketed the world, and the only thing he could hear were two heartbeats: one was his own, and the other belonged to Hikari.

He did not remember if he closed his eyes. Was too focused on the warm, comforting feeling that swept through his body, like a thick blanket that had just come out of the dryer. He felt Yamato squeezing his shoulder still, and he breathed in deeply, allowing himself to relax.

He wanted this moment to freeze so he could feel like this forever: weightless and at peace and so, very warm. There was no darkness. There was no chill. There were no ghosts. Everything was quiet. Calm.

"He's gone," he murmured when the light faded.

"Yeah, Teek," Yamato whispered in reply, squeezing him gently. "Piemon is gone. The portal is gone. You're safe. Everyone is safe."

He started to smile—a wobbly, relieved smile that soon turned into something strangely similar to a laugh. Or a sob. He couldn't tell the difference.

"Yeah," he echoed hoarsely.

He saw Tokomon walking feebly toward them, and he took a step forward to go get him. But the ground seemed to slip out from underneath him as soon as he tried to move and dizziness claimed him without warning. Yamato followed him to the forest floor, trying to stop him from hitting the ground too hard.

"Hey, hey, hey, Takeru—"

Takeru was out before Yamato could finish his sentence.

* * *

Instinct drove Hikari forward the moment Takeru's eyes rolled back, but Yamato was there first. Takeru had stumbled away from both of them without warning and now he was on the ground, and Yamato was shaking his shoulders.

"Is he ok?" Yamato asked anxiously when Jou knelt down to check his pulse.

"Yeah, I think so," Jou answered after a moment. "He's... he's probably just exhausted."

Tokomon was now by his side, pressing his face into the crook of Takeru's neck. "Are you sure?"

Hikari drew in the sight of her best friend: still incredibly pale, eyes shadowed with fatigue; dried blood marking his cheeks in thin streaks; his clothes shredded beyond repair. His wounds had closed up to become faded scars that had looked like they'd been there for years. There was one parallel to his jawline, and one on his neck that stretched beneath the fabric of sweatshirt, and probably more hidden by the rest of his tattered clothing. The sight of them made Hikari's heart drop.

But the soft, weak rise and fall of his chest told Hikari he was breathing, signaling that he was alive, and that was enough—at least for now—for her.

"Yeah. We just need to get him back home," Jou said.

Yamato nodded, eyes forever worried, and bit his lip nervously. For a moment, Hikari thought she saw tears, but before she could get a closer look, Yamato was shrugging Takeru's limp body onto his shoulders. Gabumon was quick to grab Tokomon and pull him close, pressing his free paw against Yamato's leg protectively.

"Are you alright?" Mimi said with Tanamon resting in her arms, and it took Hikari a moment to realize that the question had been directed at her. She glanced up—a mistake, the spinning world told her—and blinked a few times when she felt something soft rub up against her leg. Plotmon.

She reached down to pick up her digimon partner, but the moment she bent over, a vicious spell of nausea overcame her, and if it hadn't been for Ken reaching out to grab her, she probably would have ended up unconscious just like Takeru. She was uncertain of why she felt ill—until she glanced at Takeru again and her crest vibrated somewhere below her collarbone.

This was a small remnant of what Takeru was feeling.

"Th-thanks," she managed weakly, before seeing the heavy wince that crossed over Ken's face. "Are _you_ alright?"

Very slowly, she extended a hand to grasp his shirt. A thin line of blood was immediately visible on the fabric, just above his hip; and she remembered instantly that Piemon had nicked him with his sword.

"Yeah," he assured. "It... it just stings a little. Nothing bigger than a cat scratch." He paused to inspect it carefully, and then Hikari realized the dark pink glow emitting from underneath his shirt. Ken said, "I... I don't know when my crest came back to me, but I think it's helping dull the pain, as weird as that sounds."

Nonetheless, Stingmon—one of the few digimon who had yet to return to their child and baby forms after that blast of light—carefully wrapped Ken in his arms, hefting him upward so he did not have to walk. Hikari drew in a breath of surprise when she was scooped up as well. "You both look tired. I've got you."

"It'll need to be cleaned up once we get back," Jou murmured once they were situated comfortably in Stingmon's arms. Hikari had to admit, she was grateful for not having to stand. Her vision was blurry from exhaustion and dizziness.

"Which begs the question... _how_ do we get back?" Yamato asked quietly, eyes never leaving Takeru's limp form.

It was Mimi who looked around. They were still deep in the forest, and Hikari knew trying to get out would be difficult. Hikari noticed after a moment that dawn was beginning to break, but even with that crevice of light, it would still be too easy to get lost.

"Where... where do you think all of the ghosts went?" Mimi whispered.

"Do you think they went with Piemon after he was deleted?" Ikakkumon asked quietly.

Hikari turned to look back at the vacant space which Piemon's lair had previously occupied. A part of her mind asked the same thing, but she was too exhausted to search for answers. Her brain was stuck on the look of absolute relief that crossed Takeru's features right before he collapsed...

"Oh, my gosh, look!"

Mimi's exclamation had caught everyone's attention. Hikari's eyes snapped open, not even aware that she had closed them, and looked in the direction Mimi was pointing.

At first, she did not see anything other than trees, shivering under the wind's gentle touch. But then she saw a flicker, almost like static, and she squinted. Her breath left her almost immediately.

Two figures walking in the distance, holding hands. They were little—the size of two young children—and the longer she watched, the further they went. Like two tiny ships venturing further and further into the sea, their lights slowly fading, too far away for anyone to see.

"Do you think," she hedged, glancing down at Plotmon who sat comfortably in her arms, "that's Saya and Sakauchi?"

"It might be," Tanamon answered after a pause.

Hikari offered a tiny smile. "She found her brother, then."

"With your help," Plotmon said.

" _Our_ help."

Yamato shifted Takeru's weight slightly, and he was the first one to start walking. "She helped us, sure. But that doesn't forgive what she did. I'm glad they're all gone. We need to get Takeru home."

Hikari smile faded at that, but she did not say anything in response. There was nothing to say, really. She drew in a quiet breath. "We still don't know how to get home."

Everyone froze as a series of beeps followed her words, and instinctively Hikari reached to check her pockets. Except she was in pajama pants, which had no pockets, and her d-terminal was still laying on the floor in her bedroom. And there was no way her cell phone had reception in the digital world, even if she did have it on her.

"It's from Koushiro," Jou said.

"And Taichi," Yamato said, struggling to hold onto Takeru and his d-terminal.

"Daisuke and Miyako, too," Ken added.

"And Sora. Wow, there are so many," Mimi breathed out. "How come we didn't get them until now?"

"Piemon's barrier must have somehow blocked all of the messages from getting in," Stingmon replied.

"That happened before, right? Yesterday, when we went to the desert," Ken said.

Hikari's expression darkened slightly. So many things had happened yesterday. So many things had happened _today._ They had all been up for almost twenty-four hours, and it hadn't even seemed like that long. She'd been so swept up with finding Takeru that she had forgotten to even attempt to send a message to someone back home to let them know they at least arrived ok.

"What do they say?" she asked.

"Most of them are asking us what's going on and why we can't reply," Jou said as he scrolled through the list of messages.

"And—oh!" Mimi's eyes widened a fraction. "This one just arrived! It's from Koushiro."

She peered closer to Ken so she could look at his screen. Indeed it was from Koushiro, and relief splintered through her entire body when she read that he was able to pinpoint their location and create a portal if need be. There wasn't a television nearby, but it was Koushiro; if he said it was possible, then she trusted that he could still open one.

"Well," Yamato said, his grip tightening on Takeru as Gabumon took the device from his hands, "that answers that question."

It was Jou who sent a response saying that they were done and they were safe—Takeru included—and it wasn't long before Koushiro replied again. Jou said, "He said to hold tight... although I'm not sure what that means."

Hikari blinked in confusion, and before she could even think of a reply, the air around her rippled. Her eyes widened, and her stomach rolled uneasily when the space in front of them seemed to split in two, just like it had when they left Yamato's apartment.

She should have been ready for the magnetic pull that dragged all of them in. She should have expected to feel more than a little dizzy. But exhaustion had an iron grip on her, and she found herself completely unprepared as the world morphed and shifted around her.

But the sensation was over quickly, and all of the sudden they were stumbling in Yamato's apartment, surrounded by a group of tired, worried people.

Noises burst around her instantly, like a volcano that had been waiting to erupt. She slid out of Stingmon's grip without warning and felt her brother's arms wrap around her, strong and safe. She heard yelling and crying. She heard sighs and relieved laughter. She heard shouts of horror when they saw the blood.

But she did not care. Takeru was safe. And she was safe, enveloped in Taichi's warm embrace. Everyone was safe.

"It's over, Nii-san," she murmured into his chest.

She was distantly aware that Taichi had lifted her. Heard Takeru and Yamato's parents say something about taking everyone to the hospital. But she was tired. So, so tired, and she felt safe enough to give into that fatigue.

She was unconscious before they left the apartment.


	24. I'm Not Fine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ahem* ...actually i don't have any excuses. this was already written. I just. forgot to post. I am sorry. but I've got a sort-of sequel to this coming, so maybe that makes up for this? thanks for all the comments & kudos!! i've got other digimon stories, posted both here and [fanfiction.net!](https://www.fanfiction.net/u/3960868/%22) you can also find me on [tumblr!](https://digidestinedninjaofsunshine.tumblr.com)

"Light up, light up; as if you have a choice. Even if you cannot hear my voice, I'll be right beside you, dear." — Run, Snow Patrol

* * *

**Ch 24 || I'm Not Fine**

Someone was holding his hand.

It was the first thing Takeru became aware of. Fingers were resting languidly on his own, comforting and warm. The whole room seemed warm, he realized slowly. He twisted his head farther into his pillow and squeezed the hand in his instinctively.

"...Takeru?"

Deep. Tired. Quiet, with a tinge of hope. Onii-san.

He tried opening his eyes but could only get them to flutter. When he attempted to speak, the only thing that was released was a soft hum, so he squeezed harder. Harder. Why was everything so heavy? Was he back in that lonely, dark world that Piemon had brought him to? No. No, Piemon was dead... right? Right?

A rapid beeping noise echoed somewhere close to him, and his brother's voice said, "Hey, hey, take it slow, ok? You're alright, Teek, you've just been asleep for a while."

Slow. Takeru drew in a deep breath through his nose. Released it. Focused. Tried his best to relax. One. Two. Three. Breathe. One, two, three...

"There you go," Yamato murmured. "It's ok."

When Takeru was finally able to crack his eyes open, everything was disorienting: too bright, too sharp. Like he was glimpsing the world through eyes that did not belong to him. He blinked multiple times, and very slowly, the room became less distorted. He could still hear a beeping sound... beeping sound...

He scanned his surroundings blearily, still blinking to dispel the thick mist of slumber. A hospital. He was in a hospital, connected to machines...

"It's reversed," Takeru mumbled sluggishly, peering at his brother once again with hazy eyes. "Last time... you were the one... in the hospital bed..."

"Yeah," Yamato said quietly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Takeru's palm. "I guess I was, huh?"

"Mm." He breathed in deeply, allowing his gaze to flicker down to his chest. He wasn't wearing his brother's sweatshirt anymore. He didn't... what had...?

Oh.

"I'm sorry your sweatshirt was destroyed," he said, his words still slurring together.

To his surprise, Yamato laughed: a low, humorless sound. "Don't be sorry, Teek. You know I have others."

Takeru hummed again, trying to shift his weight so he could wake himself up more. Exhaustion refused to release him—it tugged and pulled him deeper and deeper into the inviting embrace of sleep—and so he closed his eyes. He swore it was only for a few seconds, but when he opened them again, Yamato was on the other side of his bed, tugging gently at the blanket as if it had been caught on something.

"Wh...what're you doing?"

"You're shivering," Yamato told him.

Was he? Takeru blinked again, slow and lethargic, but before he could speak, his brother asked, "Are you cold? I could get more blankets from a nurse, or call Gabumon back in here—"

"Wait," Takeru blurted without thinking, reaching up to grab Yamato's hand. He missed, however, since Yamato was now pacing and fretting about the bed with a somewhat anxious expression, and Takeru still could not figure out how to move very fast. He didn't want Yamato to be so upset over him.

There was an awkward, pregnant pause. Takeru was uncertain of why Yamato was so quiet. He stared openly at his sibling's face, watching confusedly as his features twisted and darkened. His gaze went from nervous and concerned to extremely solemn. A frown marred Yamato's lips, and he quickly averted his gaze, releasing the hospital-issued blanket and slowly walking around back to the chair he was in when Takeru first opened his eyes.

"...Nii-san?" Takeru whispered.

Yamato still did not speak. Then, after chewing his lip for a few moments, he reached for Takeru's hand again. Instead of holding it, however, he rolled it so Takeru's forearm was visible. Blinking again in confusion, Takeru's eyes slowly followed his brother's, and—

And his heart stammered.

The warm, safe bubble around him seemed to pop. Loudly. Suddenly he was thrust into the cold, harsh reality: Yamato could see his scars.

_Yamato could see everything._

Instinct was to tuck his wrists in. To cover himself up. But there was nowhere to go, and the sleeves of the hospital gown cut off just above his elbows. When he twisted his arm in an attempt to hide, Yamato pressed his palm firmly into Takeru's, preventing escape.

Yamato murmured quietly, "I think it's time we talked."

His free hand curled into a tight fist, and he had to suck in a cleansing breath so he would not burst into tears at that very moment. It was pathetic, he immediately thought as he blinked rapidly, trying to figure out how to breathe without sobbing. Unbelievably pathetic and humiliating. Yamato had seen how desperate he had become. Yamato had seen his shame. His escape.

He was still trying to turn his arm, although weakly; but Yamato would not release him. "Teek, stop."

"Nii-san, please, d-don't—"

"I'm not mad, you know," Yamato continued suddenly; softly. "Not at you, at least."

Takeru froze. "Wh-what?"

"I'm not angry," he repeated delicately, "if that's what you're thinking." His thumb skimmed over the back of Takeru's hand for a second time—a comforting gesture—and his expression bled sorrow when he glanced at Takeru's face. "I... I know why you didn't tell anyone. But then, I guess you did tell me, huh? And I went and forgot." He chuckled quietly and shakily, and a wobbly, empty smile tugged at his lips. "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, Takeru."

Takeru reached up with his free hand to wipe at his face, ashamed that he had started crying so easily, and in front of his brother, nonetheless. But there was an IV there, and he couldn't move it without feeling some sort of resistance. Tears rolled freely down the curves of his cheeks. "P-please... please don't apologize, Nii-san—this isn't—"

"I know what Piemon did wasn't my fault. But," he went on, shifting his weight as though he were uncomfortable, "it wasn't yours, either."

Takeru quieted, unable to think of a reply. So he just sat trembling and afraid and embarrassed. This gown was loose and thin, designed only to hide what was necessary. He was vulnerable and exposed like an object put on display. And if Yamato had seen what he had done, then that meant that so had Mom, Dad, and—

"Hey," Yamato said softly when the heart monitor started to beep rapidly once again. He released Takeru's hand but remained by his side, eyes widening with concern. "Takeru, hey—"

"Everyone saw, didn't they?" he whispered anxiously. Hoarsely. "Oh, god, _everyone saw_ —"

"Shhh, Keru, shhh." Yamato extended a hand to touch his shoulder, but Takeru instinctively flinched away. Twisted both his arms so they were facing away from his brother, despite the uncomfortable pull from the IV, and he scooted farther into the bed as if it offered protection from the frantic concern in Yamato's gaze. His lungs constricted and he could barely hear his brother's voice over his own quickening breathing and the high-pitched beeping.

"Shhh," Yamato repeated. "Not everyone saw, Teek, I promise. I promise."

Takeru refrained from releasing another sob, and Yamato was nodding slowly, reassuring him calmly over and over again, and without realizing it Takeru started counting aloud. One, two, three. Breathe. One, two, three. Breathe. His stomach clenched with nausea, but he continued his mantra anyway. One, two, three. Breathe.

At some point, Yamato joined him. Hesitantly, he reached out and squeezed his hand again. Gently. Carefully. Takeru's head fell back against his pillow with a soft thud as his heartbeat began to sound more like a heartbeat and less like a metal hammer pounding against his ears.

Closed his eyes.

Gingerly brought his free hand to his head as if his fingers had the power to rub off the exhaustion that seemed permanently etched into his being.

"Takeru?"

"I'm sorry," he rasped.

"Don't be sorry," Yamato said. "You've nothing to apologize for."

Oh, but he did. Takeru swallowed weakly. He was looking anywhere except Yamato's face. The window. The blankets. The walls. The small cabinets. The heart monitor. His brows knitted together when he noticed the absence of one of his best friends.

"Where's... where's Patamon?"

Yamato was quiet for a moment. "He stayed with Hikari this morning. We weren't sure when you would wake up, and..." Another pause. "I can let them know you're awake now—"

"Is Hikari ok? Is Patamon ok?" Takeru asked in a whisper. "How long was I out?

"They're fine. _Everyone_ is fine," his brother added. "You slept for most of the day. It's almost seven."

He'd slept for over twelve hours? Takeru's eyes widened in disbelief. "In the evening?"

"Yeah. Hikari's crest may have healed your wounds," Yamato said, "but you were—wait, what do you remember?"

Takeru fell silent. He wished he didn't remember anything. That would be so much easier than trying to relay memories to his sibling. But he wasn't going to lie. Not anymore. He shrugged mutely, and then mumbled, "Seraphimon... he killed Piemon, and Angewomon destroyed his house. And..." His face twisted. "And now we're here."

"Do you feel ok?"

He shrugged again. He inhaled slowly. "Y-yeah, I... I think so."

"Are you hungry?"

Takeru paused again and then shook his head. His stomach still felt uneasy, and food didn't seem like a good idea. Yamato's eyes dimmed somewhat, and then he was resting a hand on Takeru's arm. Takeru stiffened slightly, at first. Chewed his lip. Slowly loosened up. Yamato said softly, "You haven't been eating much."

Takeru's head tilted in confusion. "What?"

"Sora noticed it first, I think," he continued slowly. "That you were losing weight, I mean. She could see it in your face, and she said your clothes looked a little baggy. The doctors say you're not underweight, not yet, but..." His gaze slid upward so he was looking into Takeru's eyes. "You're sure you're not hungry?"

"I..." Takeru's fingers curled into the hospital blankets. "I don't think it will sit well, is all."

Yamato nodded but kept quiet. Takeru felt his heart begin to drop somewhere below his ribcage, and he bit his lip again, hating that he had made his brother worry so much. Wondering when he had eaten last. Had he been skipping meals without realizing? How could he have ignored hunger so easily, when it was one of the most basic biological needs for survival?

He sifted through memories, rewinding, before the battle, before the house, before Sakauchi had even taken him to the digital world. Yamato had cooked supper that night, right? Right. He did. But Takeru had been so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he didn't remember eating much of it.

A loud cry. Glass shattering. He'd dropped the plate when Yamato had reached out to touch him. Without realizing it, Takeru slid his hand out from under Yamato's, and he rubbed his shoulder tenderly as if to test it. No sharp pain. Just a soft amount of pressure.

Takeru blinked, pressing down harder. Harder. Curled his fingers into the fabric until he was sure his nails were digging into his skin. It was sort of numb, he realized, and the texture of his flesh felt strangely uneven and gnarled.

Takeru wished he had not looked underneath the hospital gown.

Blue eyes popped. His blood ran cold. He gasped in horror when he saw a thin, raised scar that started at the top of his shoulder and stretched across his chest like crooked branches on a tree limb. He kicked free of his blanket, heedless of Yamato's baffled, concerned expression; and felt tears burn his eyes when he saw similar-looking scars marking his right leg, snaking up past his knee.

Takeru expelled a noise that sounded oddly like a whimper.

Yamato moved on instinct.

He all but jumped onto the bed—which creaked under the sudden added weight—and then Takeru was enclosed in a powerful, warm embrace with enough force to knock the wind out of him. One of his hands cradled Takeru's head, pulling him in close until his chin was resting on Yamato's shoulder, and he squeezed hard as if he was using every ounce of strength he had.

"I'm so sorry," Yamato said immediately, and his voice was choked and weak but he continued to repeat the same words anyway, rocking Takeru back and forth, back and forth as he buried his head into Yamato's shirt and sobbed quietly. "I'm sorry, Takeru. Damn it, I'm so sorry."

Takeru's barrier had splintered days ago. But now it was like someone had placed a series of bombs at the foundation of his walls, and when the timer stopped ticking, everything went down. And the explosions did not stop until all that was left was rubble and ash.

That meant there was nowhere to hide now. No more lies, no more masks, no more false smiles. Yamato knew the truth now, could see everything: all the nightmares and secrets and sleepless nights reflecting in haunted pools of blue. He had seen the scars carved so desperately by his blade, and now they had both seen the ones inflicted upon him by Piemon's demonic servants. His servants and their skeletal, knife-like fingers piercing through his skin, peeling and clawing his flesh away like he was made of paper...

He trembled violently in Yamato's arms like he was seven years old all over again, and he sobbed, and he hurt, and he released everything, and it was ok now. There was no one to inflict harm on him. No one to hurt Yamato, or Hikari, or Patamon, or any of his friends. They were safe. He was safe.

He could have cried himself to sleep. He was not sure. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot and sore when the tears stopped—and he was uncertain of when that had been—and so he closed them. The next time they opened, he was leaning against the back of the bed, and Yamato sat next to him, humming quietly under his breath, one arm still wrapped around his shoulder. Gabumon was on his other side, a paw draped over his chest, soft and warm. Takeru's blanket was situated so it covered the lower half of his body.

Takeru released a low breath all of a sudden, which made Gabumon and Yamato look down at him curiously. Takeru muttered in a raspy voice, "You know what I just realized?"

"Hmm?"

"You're not in a boot anymore."

Yamato laughed. "Nope."

"Does it hurt still?"

"Not a bit."

Takeru blinked. "H-how...?"

"I'm not entirely sure myself, Teek," Yamato answered. Takeru felt his shoulders lift in a small shrug. "It just... happened."

"His crest did it," Gabumon said quietly.

Takeru was sitting up suddenly, and Gabumon blinked, bewildered, as his gaze searched the room. Half of him expected to see a flash of gold. A sliver of pink. But his eyes found nothing out of the ordinary. Just a normal hospital room. He looked back at Yamato, looking for a hint of blue. A small chain. Confusion brewed in his stomach when he found nothing.

"Where did our crests go?"

"I don't know," his brother said. "Gennai said—"

Takeru's eyes widened slowly when he abruptly stopped, and then Yamato hurried to explain, "When you were asleep, and, you know, after everyone had rested and recovered from the battle with Piemon, Gennai asked to see us."

"What did he want?"

"He told us the disturbances he kept sensing were completely gone." A brief pause. "And... and he wanted to know what happened."

Takeru sniffed. Swallowed hard. But he had no more tears to cry. Could only look at Yamato with webbed, swollen eyes. Yamato murmured, "We didn't tell him everything. That wouldn't have been fair to you. I'm surprised he didn't push for more information than what we gave him, but we got enough pushing from everyone else."

He released a dry chuckle. "When we got back, they were all a mess. Mimi, Jou, and Ken didn't say much because. Well. What were we supposed to tell them? They, um. They were freaked out, and then Mom saw you..."

Takeru blinked, allowing his head to fall back against Yamato's shoulder. He tried to ignore the way his heart sank in his chest because she was one of the people whom he had lied to the most. He remembered being covered in blood. His own blood. He couldn't imagine what it would have been like for them to see him like that.

He didn't want to imagine it.

"Where is Mom?"

"She's here. She and Dad came in about ten minutes ago, but you were sleeping again," Yamato said. "I didn't know if you, um, if you were up to seeing more people, and so I told her and Dad to go get food or something."

Takeru swallowed again. "She's, um. She's not mad, is she?"

"Why would she be mad?"

Takeru's gaze drifted down to his arms, and he slowly rolled them over so Yamato could not see his scars. Not again. Whispered, "I didn't mean to worry her. Or anyone else."

_Things weren't supposed to get this bad._

Yamato sighed softly, shifting slightly as he inclined his head toward the back of the hospital bed. "We're always going to worry about you, Teek. But no, she's not mad."

Takeru did not reply. Not at first. He looked at his fingers, thankful for the warmth of Gabumon's fur, for his brother's presence. He wished he could see Patamon. Instead of voicing that desire, however, Takeru simply murmured, "I'm going to have to tell everyone, huh?"

"They do have a lot of questions," Yamato said, "but no one is going to pressure you into talking, you know. They'll wait. All they know right now is that we beat Piemon and his demons, and you were hurt."

And everything else was left for Takeru to explain? For a moment, he thought of being trapped in Piemon's lair, of being up on the rooftop, and what that had felt like. That crushing feeling of hopelessness and wanting it all to end. That world of infinite darkness. He did not want to tell his friends what Piemon had done to him. What Piemon had driven him to. He couldn't. Shame swam in his chest. A shiver crawled up his spine.

Yamato offered a comforting squeeze without hesitation as if his touch was enough to calm the tremors claiming Takeru's body. "Hikari was right, you know."

Takeru blinked. "What?"

"You're not alone. You never were."

Takeru opened his mouth to reply, but once again, he could not think of anything to say. He kept his gaze on his lap instead. Even when Yamato continued quietly, "When you jumped... I thought we were too late." He exhaled shakily. "I thought I'd lost you for good. I know that Piemon said—"

Yamato paused for a long moment and Takeru saw him hurry to wipe his eyes with his free hand. Then, in a voice that broke: "I know that Piemon taunted you. I know you did it because... because you thought he would kill us. And you must have been so scared. But, I don't know, seeing someone that you love in so much pain... knowing they're hurting so badly that they think the only way to get rid of that pain is to take it out on themselves or... or take their own life... it's terrifying."

He squeezed Takeru gently again, but this time it seemed to be because he needed to reassure himself, rather than Takeru.

Takeru hadn't seen this side of Yamato in a long time, and that was what scared him the most. He chewed his lip, unable to ignore the guilt that crawled through him.

Yamato had seen him die.

Hikari, Mimi, Jou, Ken, and their partners... they had watched him jump to his death. Did they watch him hit the ground? Obviously not, since he had not been crushed from the fall. But what was the point in—

Takeru had to physically shake his head to stop that train of thought. It was too dark to think about, and he was left shuddering again because there were so many questions he had that were still unanswered, but he lacked the energy to ask Yamato. Was too ashamed to ask Yamato. Instead, he was left sniffling, unable to summon the courage to respond at all.

_I just wanted you to be safe._

_I just wanted some peace._

There was a knock on the door.

Takeru's head snapped up, and he immediately tucked his arms closer to his body. His heart throbbed when his mother's head peeked in the door.

Her expression was a mixture of fatigue and worry, and her eyes were puffy just like Takeru's. The moment she saw that Takeru eyes were open, however, her entire face changed.

"Oh, you're awake," she gasped in absolute relief, and she made a move to rush toward him as if to hug him.

Part of Takeru—the young, naive part of him that made him want to run to his brother and mom when things went wrong; the part that was unleashed when Yamato had seen his scars—ached for her warm embrace.

Part of him—the part swamped by shame and guilt—wanted to retreat further into the hospital bed, because how could he face his mother knowing what he'd just put her through? How could he look into her eyes after what he had done? After he had been willing to leave her, his brother, and his friends forever?

It must have been written all over his face because as soon as his father entered the room as well, he rested a tentative hand on his mother's shoulder. His mom froze—eyes tinted with doubt—before a wobbly smile claimed her lips and she asked, "How... how are you feeling, Takeru?"

"I'm... I'm ok," he muttered quietly, eyes falling on his blanket.

"Does anything hurt at all?"

He swallowed. Damn it, he had thought that there were no more tears left. But his throat was closing anyway, foretelling another crying spell. "N-no, I'm ok, Mom."

She looked incredibly torn for several moments. Her bottom lip quivered and her eyes watered, but no tears were released. She offered another sad smile. "I'm glad."

There was a long, awkward silence that followed her words. Takeru did not know how to fill it. So he sat quietly and tensely, half-aware that he probably looked like a child, wrapped up in Yamato's arms like this, but neither of his parents commented on it. And Yamato didn't make any kind of effort to move.

Eventually, his parents shared a conflicted look. His dad expelled a soft sigh. He released Mom's shoulder and lifted his arm to reveal two small boxes. Takeru was instantly hit with the aroma of food.

"I know you haven't eaten much today, Yamato, so I bought some take-out for you. I, uhh." Worried eyes flickered to Takeru, and he continued with an awkward undertone, "I didn't know when you'd wake up, or if you'd just sleep through the night, but there's a lot in there for you boys and Gabumon to share. I can always make a second trip—"

Takeru's cheeks flushed. Then he gave Yamato a confused look, but Yamato's eyes were trained solely on their father. His expression was unreadable.

"You two can share it."

"You need to eat, too," Gabumon said immediately before anyone else had a chance to speak.

"Takeru needs—"

"I'll make a second trip," Dad decided with a determined nod. "Is there, um, is there anything you'd like in particular? Maybe something fairly light?"

Takeru had to look away when their eyes met because he couldn't stand seeing them look so heartbroken and concerned. Especially over him.

_This really_ is _all my fault._

"Um, no," he muttered, drawing closer to Yamato as if his brother offered any protection against that horribly sad look in both of their parents' eyes. "Just... yeah, maybe something light."

A soft sigh. "I'll be back, ok?"

Takeru nodded, and so did Yamato. Then their father gave Mom's shoulder a brief squeeze, and he was leaving the room. Takeru still couldn't bring himself to look at his mother's face, filled with humiliation, careful to keep his arms tucked in. She looked ready to burst into tears.

Then, in a voice that wavered: "I'll... I'll alert the doctor that you're awake, ok, hun?"

Takeru swallowed. Yamato murmured quietly, "Jou asked his dad to take your case, so um, so there wouldn't be too many people asking questions. You know, about the digital world."

He nodded stiffly, and Takeru swore he heard his mother draw in a shuddering breath before she left the room. Part of him didn't want her to go, but he couldn't force himself to smile and reassure her. Not anymore. Or... or at least not yet, anyway. As soon as the door clicked shut, Takeru whispered, "So, um, they won't want to do any more tests or anything?"

"You were pretty dehydrated when you came in, so they've been giving you some fluids," Yamato explained as he gestured to the drip bag hanging by the side of the hospital bed. "They changed it earlier, but uh, it looks like it's almost out. Now that you're awake, though, he'll probably check up on you and take you off the IV. But he does know that you lost a good amount of blood. Jou said that it wasn't enough to need a transfusion or anything, but it did leave you pretty beat, huh?"

Takeru grimaced. Yamato reached over and took his hand again, and Gabumon rubbed his cheek against Takeru's other arm. But even with their warmth, Takeru couldn't shake away the crystals of ice forming under his skin. The more he thought about it, the colder he became, on the inside and the outside, just like before, at the Piemon's house...

Damn it, why couldn't he stop thinking about Piemon's lair?

"Can I ask you something, Teek?"

"Hmm?"

"How... how long?"

Takeru blinked. "How long, what?"

"How long have you been cutting yourself?"

A long, slow breath. Takeru squeezed his eyes shut as if that would prevent them from stinging so much. He really _didn't_ want to have this conversation. Not with Onii-san. But Yamato's eyes were pleading.

"...dunno," he murmured hoarsely and it was partially true. "It was, um, it was before Koushiro called that meeting."

Yamato was silent. It wasn't long before his cheeks felt damp again, and he curled his fingers underneath Yamato's, angry at himself once again for being unable to stop the tears once again.

"Why do you keep saying you're sorry?"

" _Because_ ," Takeru said, and his voice broke as the word came out, "this is... this is so _pathetic_ , don't you see? I didn't want you to know—I didn't want anyone to know! But now you do, and did you see the way Mom was looking at me? She was... I don't want anyone else to look at me like that! It's... it's too _much_."

"Takeru—"

"I... I didn't think anyone would find out," he went on, shaking his head slowly as a quiet sob escaped him. "It was... I thought if I could hide until it healed. I told m-myself I wouldn't do it again. A-and it was o-ok if no one knew. But I... I don't know, I just slipped. I just. I kept doing it—the knife was _right there._ It made them go away, and it was something I could control, just for a little bit, and that... that was all I wanted."

Yamato took his hand and persuaded his fingers to uncurl. He hadn't noticed he'd been digging his fingernails into his skin again. "Takeru... listen to me."

He hiccuped quietly, keeping his eyes on their hands until Yamato reached over and brushed away his tears. Takeru didn't have the strength to stop him. Not even when he said, "Mom's just worried about you. And I know that sometimes, that worry can become suffocating. But, Mom... she just doesn't want you to feel so isolated. I also know that you've been hurting, Teek. You're tired, and you're in pain... and I hate seeing you in pain."

"We just want to help you heal," Gabumon said.

Heal.

Takeru needed to heal. Because he was damaged. There was physical evidence. He rubbed his shoulder as he thought, leaning into Yamato, and trying so hard not to sob all over again. Gabumon was rubbing his back slowly, carefully, as if Takeru would flinch away at any given moment. Part of him wanted to, but Gabumon was warm. Takeru ached to have Patamon by his side.

"Does... does your chest hurt?" Yamato asked when he noticed Takeru had moved his hand.

"No." Takeru chewed the inside of his lip. "...a little, actually. It stings. But it's not bad."

Yamato released a quiet sigh. He rested his cheek on the top of Takeru's head. "I love you, little bro."

Takeru's insides twisted. Yamato wasn't a verbally affectionate person. He knew that Yamato loved him—he could see it in Yamato's eyes and he could see it in his actions—but on very rare occasions would he say it out loud. Takeru willed his heart to stay within the confines of his chest.

"I love you, too, Nii-san," he rasped, swallowing hard once again. He drew in a shaky breath. "Do you, um. Do you think you could get Patamon to come here?"

"Of course I can," Yamato replied instantly. Softly. "Do you want—"

Footsteps. Quick. Nervous. Takeru stilled, anxious eyes meeting those of his brother's almost immediately, and he curled instinctively away from the door in fear of who might be on the other side. He wasn't ready to talk to any doctors yet, even if it was Jou's father.

He heard frantic voices, but they weren't loud enough for Takeru to decipher words. It was just hushed scolding and the skidding of sneakers on the hospital floor.

"Hikari, wait, you—" Taichi's voice said as the door swung open.

Takeru took one look at Hikari's webbed eyes and felt his heart drop.

She was breathing heavily, pink in the face, with a very worried Tailmon panting at her side, and an even more worried Patamon fluttering above her head. She was sweating, and immediately her hands came to rest on her knees as she doubled over to catch her breath.

"I... I knew you were awake... I c-could... I could _feel_ it," she gasped out, voice winded and hoarse just like his own. "I _knew_ you were awake."

Yamato stiffened by his side and shot Takeru an uncertain glance as Taichi entered the room as well, panting and soaked in sweat.

For a brief moment, Takeru wished he could disappear.

"Hikari..." Taichi started, but Patamon zoomed across the room before he could finish his sentence.

"TAKERU!"

Patamon pushed himself into Takeru's chest so fast that it left him breathless. His fingers sifted through his partner's warm fur in seconds, and without even thinking, he buried his head into Patamon's coat.

"H-hi, P-Pata," he greeted softly.

"I'm so happy you're awake! I was so worried," Patamon gushed before anyone else had the chance to speak. "They told me to sleep earlier, but I—I couldn't! I wanted to be here when you woke up, I really did—"

"I-it's ok," he stuttered, inhaling slowly. Exhaling. "It's ok, Patamon."

"Hikari, I told you, he doesn't want visitors right now," Taichi was saying softly as he leveled his breathing, which made Takeru glance up.

Their eyes met for only a second before Takeru had to look away. Confused. Taichi was confused and maybe a little scared. Which meant Taichi probably wanted answers. Ones he could not give.

Tears pooled in Hikari's eyes. "I—I'm sorry, Yamato... I know what you said. I just." She sucked in another deep breath. "I needed to see him. I needed to talk to him."

Takeru squeezed Patamon tightly, heart clenching as everyone fell silent. The heart monitor seemed so loud at that moment. A droning, incessant beep, echoing, drowning out even the sound of Hikari's and Taichi's panting.

Then Hikari risked a glance at her brother, looked back at Takeru, and said gently, "I, um. I know it's a lot to ask right now, but can I talk to you?" A pause. "Alone."

Yamato went still. His grip on Takeru tightened considerably. Looked ready to shake his head. To push them out. But when Takeru looked at Hikari—when he saw her tear-glossed eyes that clicked with understanding the moment their gazes met—he found himself repeating in a low whisper, "I-it's ok."

Yamato blinked. "What?"

"Let her stay," he said quietly. "Please."

"Are you sure?"

Takeru nodded mutely. Yamato patted his hand tenderly before slowly sliding off the bed, and Takeru kept his gaze down as his brother gestured for Taichi to leave the room. Gabumon followed. When the door clicked shut a second time, Hikari took a hesitant step toward Takeru's bed.

Patamon pressed his nose against the bottom of Takeru's chin. "You're cold."

"I feel it, too," Hikari whispered quietly. "The cold."

Takeru blinked up at her. "You do?"

She nodded slowly and took another step in Takeru's direction. "Can I sit?"

"Sure."

Tailmon followed her as she slid into the chair, and neither of them spoke, at first. Her expression was indifferent as if she was trying to pull all of her thoughts together but didn't want to give away any indication of what they were until they were lined up exactly how she wanted. But then their eyes found each other again, and even though Takeru did not know how, he could tell that she felt as anxious and uncertain as he did.

So her mask fell. It shattered like glass hitting the floor, just like his own had before, and he realized that she wasn't going to ask for an explanation. He didn't need to tell her what he had told Yamato.

Because she already knew.

His pain. Her pain. Their fears. Their doubts. Their guilt. They were connected. Their fates were intertwined. Knotted together like ribbons. Takeru could see the whispers of hesitance and anxiety deep within in her gaze, in her body language, and there was nothing she could do to hide it. There was nothing he could do to hide his own emotions from her.

"I know you're scared," Hikari started uncertainly. "About what the others are going to think, I mean."

"...they're all going to wonder," he muttered.

"But they're all willing to wait."

"For how long?"

Hikari did not answer. Takeru looked away.

"I'm sorry," he repeated quietly.

"You don't have to be sorry anymore," Hikari said. "I'm... I'm glad that you're ok."

Takeru's fingers curled into Patamon's fur. "You gave up part of your soul for me."

Her smile was sad. "I don't regret it."

"You don't?"

"No," Hikari assured firmly. But when she smiled, it was tinged with sorrow. "You're my best friend, Takeru."

Slowly, _slowly,_ Hikari's fingers uncurled so she could touch his hand. Her skin was warm—unlike Takeru's—and he did not know if it was because she had recently been outside or if she was just naturally warm. He murmured, "I heard, um. I heard what you said. When I was in the darkness."

"I meant it."

"I know," he whispered. "Thank you. For, um. For pulling me out."

Hikari deserved so much more than a thank you. He knew this. But it was all he could give right now, and Hikari did not ask for more. She smiled again, and her reply lingered just behind her lips, on the tip of her tongue. There was no need for her to say it out loud.

_You would have done the same for me._

"I didn't tell Nii-san, you know," she went on slowly. "Or anybody else. About... about our crests. How they merged."

"Onii-san said our crests disappeared."

"They did," Hikari confirmed. "But I can still feel a tiny bit of its presence. Kind of like it's in the room. Don't you?"

Takeru paused. He thought hard, rewinding once again. Her crest— _their_ crest—was what had anchored him. Her warmth. Her light. Her entire being. It was what drew him to her. He tried to find it again.

"I... I don't know," he admitted truthfully after a long moment.

Without hesitation, Tailmon leapt onto the hospital bed. Her expression screamed determination. "Don't give up. You've got to feel something, right?"

"It's... it's cold," he said.

"Try closing your eyes," Patamon instructed softly, resting a paw on his chest. "Think about the crest. It's there."

Hesitantly, Takeru obeyed. Hikari squeezed his fingers in reassurance. Explained in a whisper, "When... when Piemon's ghosts attacked you... when they started to consume your soul... they latched on pretty hard. That's why it's cold. Because you keep thinking about the connection they tried to make with you."

"How... how do you know that?"

"Because I can feel it, too," she answered, and it was the second time she had said it. "But... when I don't think about it, and when I think about our crests, it goes away." Added, "Close your eyes...and it will go away."

"Try again," Patamon prompted warmly.

He nodded wordlessly, once again attempting to focus on that tiny pink orb he had so desperately reached for when he was in the world of darkness. In his mind's eye, he could see it, but it seemed so far away. Like he was in a car that was moving in the opposite direction. There was a sliver of gold, smothered by shadows.

Without opening his eyes, Takeru stiffened. No. There were no more shadows. No more ghosts. They had won. He and Hikari had purified those souls. He needed to push those thoughts out.

"It's ok," Hikari said, and she sounded as far away as that pink light. But she continued anyway: "Keep trying. Let them go."

Takeru nodded again. Took comfort in the way her fingers tightened around his own. Tried to focus. _Focus._ Imagined himself running toward the light, rather than away from it. Extending his arms, just like before.

Reached.

Reached.

The shadows started to scatter. Gold and pink became brighter. Brighter.

"It _is_ warm," he murmured faintly.

"Yeah," Hikari said. "Yeah, it is."

Takeru opened his eyes. Gradually. Hesitantly. When he was sure the warmth wasn't going to fade, he allowed himself to relax. Tailmon crawled into his lap gingerly, and Patamon rubbed his cheek against Takeru's collarbone. Takeru was immediately reminded of the day Yamato had been taken to the hospital—the same hospital they were in now—when she'd come home with him. The way she'd embraced him, and the pure acceptance and concern reflected in the gazes of their digimon partners.

" _It's ok to be afraid."_

_"You're never alone."_

_"Never."_

"Whenever you decide you're ready," Hikari began, "to tell Nii-san and the others... I'll be here."

"What about Gennai?" Takeru asked timidly. "Onii-san said he still wants answers."

"Then I'll be here," she repeated firmly.

Her smile had returned, and this time, it was genuine. She was radiating with confidence and sincerity. Released his hand to caress his cheek with feather-light fingers.

The moment she made contact with his skin, a soft, ethereal glow encased them both for the third time that day.

It hadn't even been twenty-four hours, and Takeru was already amazed at how he could have forgotten what this had felt like. This wonderful, beautiful light, spilling over the room like rays that belonged to the sun, touching every cabinet, every corner, seeping through every small crevice and crack, touching everything it could reach.

Patamon and Tailmon gasped in obvious surprise. Neither pulled away.

Takeru's skin burned somewhere by his ribs, and the sensation climbed up his chest. His shoulders. His body tingled, but it was not unpleasant. It was gone in moments. The light around them dimmed but did not fade. Takeru blinked rapidly, and just when his vision started to clear, the door burst open.

Yamato and Taichi were extremely pale.

"Takeru, are you ok? What happened?"

"We saw a light, and— _whoa._ "

Takeru's eyes popped when he drew in their shocked, worried expressions, and he looked back at Hikari's face. Her eyes were the same as before—gentle and kind, even though they knew too much. So he looked down at himself.

The scars were still there, permanently painted on his skin like horrible, sickening tattoos. But there was a strange, small symbol emblazoned just below his collarbone, and it was _glowing_.

The symbol of Hikari and Takeru's combined crest.

"Wh-what the hell?" Taichi sputtered out with huge eyes.

"I told you it was here," Hikari said, focusing only on Takeru's face. Blue eyes widened even further when he saw the same marking on Hikari's skin, half-covered by her shirt. Pink. Gold. Shimmering like glitter.

Yamato was slowly walking toward Takeru, his gaze brimming with worry and confusion. "Are you ok?"

Takeru nodded dazedly and then shook his head, fingers curling inward, tucking his arms in close. Yamato didn't hesitate to wrap an arm around his shoulder. Hikari's hand fell back onto Takeru's. Taichi looked torn between running toward them and staying put.

No, he wasn't ok. Not yet. He would not be ok for a long time. Doctors were going to come in and ask questions, and his friends were going to ask questions. He didn't have answers. But right now, in this small moment, bathed in the celestial glow created by his and Hikari's crest, Takeru allowed himself to enjoy and appreciate the feeling of being here, being safe, and being warm, on the inside and out.

It was truly a wonderful feeling.


End file.
